^-^•^ 


^nf 


'/,]      THE  HIRSCHWALD 


"^ 


THE  riiBNNE'BER^FCT  company 


CHICAGO 


NEWJORK^ 


**  Beautiful! 

*' Beautiful? 
with  the  hoe. 

"They're  roses,"  I  protested.  "Wonderful  great 
green  roses. "  A  mass  of  grey,  bluish  green  extended 
on  and  on  toward  a  bank  of  purple  clouds  which 
seemed  to  unite  it  to  the  golden  orange  of  the  gor- 
geous September  sunset.  I  stood  and  feasted  my  ^y\  \ 
eyes  on  this  poem  in  color,  wondering  if  the  old  gar-  ^9J/f' 
dener  has  a  soul.  Yes,  and  so  have  thousands  of 
others,  but  they  are  sleeping;  sleeping  away  life's 
legacy,  the  power  to  enjoy  the  beauties  of  this  world. 
Not  so  with  Elizabeth ;  the  dandelion  shared  her  love 
with  the  rose,  and  by  her  chronicles  she  threw  open 
the  gates  of  her  garden  that  the  world  might  enter. 

I  have  tried  to  capture,  in  black  and  white,  the 
spirit  of  her  paradise  so  that  as  you  turn  from  page 
to  page  you  will  pass  from  flower  to  flower,  down  the 
walks  of  the  enchanted  land,  that  you  may  stand 
with  her  beside  the  sun  dial  when  the  rooks  come 
circling  home  and  listen  to  their  love-notes  of  "Caw, 
Caw"  as  they  call  good  night.  If  I  have,  with  my 
illustrations,  helped  the  text  to  bring  back  to  mem- 
ory happy  hdurs  gone  by,  of  days  you  too  spent  in  a 
garden,  then— 

"Wilderness  were  Paradise  enow. " 


Oll^i^  i4<JUL  — 


COPYRIGHT, 

I9OI, 

THE    HENNEBERRY    CO. 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


2lny  7.— I  love  my  garden.  I  am  writing  in 
it  now  in  the  late  afternoon  loveliness,  much 
interrupted  by  the  mosquitoes  and  the  tempta- 
tion to  look  at  all  the  glories  of  the  new  green 
leaves  washed  half  an  hour  ago  in  a  cold  shower. 
Two  OAvls  are  perched  near  me,  and  are  carrying 
on  a  long  conversation  that  I  enjoy  as  much  as 
any  warbling  of   nightingales.     The  gentleman 

and  she  answers  from  her 


owl  savs 


.^; 


m 


beautifully  as- 


''V 


tree    a   little  way  off.  ^i 

senting  to  and  completing  her  lord's  remark,  as 
becomes  a  properly  constructed  German  she-owl. 
They  say  the  same  thing  over  and  over  again  so 
emphatically  that  I  think  it  must  be  something 
nasty  about  me;  but  I  shall  not  let  myself  be 
frightened  away  by  the  sarcasm  of  owls. 
•i"i  ',1,1 ' 

■   -if    *' 

:>- 


>:t 


272041 


§1 


t 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

This  is  less  a  garden  than  a  wilderness.  No 
one  has  lived  in  the  house,  much  less  in  the  gar- 
den, for  twenty-five  years,  and  it  is  such  a  pretty 
old  place  that  the  people  w^ho  might  have  lived 
here  and  did  not,  deliberately  preferring  the 
horrors  of  a  flat  in  a  town,  must  have  belonged 
to  that  vast  number  of  eyeless  and  earless  persons 
of  whom  the  world  seems  chiefly  composed. 
JSToseless  too,  though  it  does  not  sound  pretty ; 
but  the  greater  part  of  my  spring  happiness  is 
due  to  the  scent  of  the  wet  earth  and  young 
leaves. 

I  am  always  happy  (out  of  doors,  be  it  under- 
stood, for  indoors  there  are  servants  and  furni-       /^^. 
ture),  but  in  quite  different  ways,  and  my  spring    M^ 
happiness  bears  no  resemblance  to  my  summer       ^%4i\ 
or  autumn  happiness,  though  it  is  not  more  in-         ' 
tense,  and  there.were  days  last  winter  when  I 
danced  for  sheer  joy  out  in  my  frost-bound  gar- 
den in   spite  of  my  years  and  children.     But  I 
did  it  behind  a  bush,  having  a  due  regard  for  the 
decencies. 

There  are  so  many  bird-cherries  around  me, 
great  trees  with  branches  sweeping  the  grass, 
and  they  are  so  wreathed  just  now  with  white 


T 


gl> 


'^ 


-^i;^ 


m^: 


\ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden.         ^.-r^^/.TO-v.  . 
blossoms  and  tenderest   green,  that  the   garden   ^g^^^^ 
looks  like  a  wedding.     I  never  saw  such  masses 
of  them  ;  they  ^seemto  fill  the  place.     Even  across 
a  little  stream  V  that  bounds  the  garden  on   the 
east,  and  right  in  the  middle  of  the  cornfield  be- 
yond, there  is  an  immense  one,  a  picture  of  grace 
and  glory  against  the  cold  blue  of  the  spring  sky. 
My  garden  is  surrounded   by    cornfields    and 
meadows,    and    beyond   are   great   stretches  of 
sandy  heath  and  pine  forests,  and  where  the  for- 
ests leave  off  the  bare  heath   begins  again  ;  but 
the  forests   are  beautiful    in   their   lofty,  pink- 
stemmed  vastness,   for  overhead  the    crowns  of 
softest  gray-green,  and  underfoot  a  bright  green 
whortleberry  carpet,  and  everywhere  the  breath- 
less  silence ;  and  the  bare  heaths  are  beautiful  g^ii-vv^^^p^j. 
too,  for   one  can   see  across  them  into  eternity  ^^i^^^^ 
almost,  and  to  go  out  onto  them  with  one's  face 
toward  the  setting  sun  is  likegoiijg  into  the  very 
presence  of  God. 

In  the  middle  of  this  plain  is  the  oasis  of  bird- 
cherries  and  greenery  where  I  spend  my  happy 
days,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  oasis  is  the  gray 
stone  house  with  many  gables  where  I  pass  my 
reluctant  nights.     The  house  is  very  old,  and  has 


LIVE    IN   PARADISE 


ALOti^ 


Tiws^m 


Elizabeth  and  Her  ' 

been  added  to  at  various  times.  It  was  a  con- 
vent before  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  and  the 
vaulted  chapel,  with  its  brick  floor  worn  by 
pious  peasant  knees,  is  now  used  as  a  hall.  Gus- 
tavus  Adolphus  and  his  Swedes  passed  through 
more  than  once,  as  is  duly  recorded  in  archives 
still  preserved,  for  we  are  on  what  was  then  the  i 
highroad  between  Sweden  and  Brandenburg  the 
unfortunate.  The  Lion  of  the  Korth  was  no 
doubt  an  estimable  person  and  acted  wholly  up 
to  his  convictions  but  he  must  have  sadly 
upset  the  peaceful  nuns,  who  were  not  with- 
out convictions,  of  their  own,  sending  them  out 
onto  the  wide,  empty -plain  to  piteously  seek 
some  life  to  replace  the  life  of  silence  here. 

From  nearly  all  the  windows  of  the  house  I 
can  look  out  across  the  plain,  with  no  obstacle 
in  the  shape  of  a  hill,  right  away  to  a  blue  line 
of  distant  forest,  and  on  the  west  side  uninter- 
ruptedly to  the  setting  sun — nothing  but  a  green, 
rolhng  plain,  with  a  sharp  edge  against  the  sun- 
set. I  love  those  west  windows  better  than  any 
others,  and  have  chosen  my  bedroom  on  that  side 
of  the  house  so  that  even  times  of  hair-brushing 
may  not  be  entirely  lost ;  and  the  young  woman 


■^'    K_7=-r 


.^ 


i  T 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

^'^  who  attends  to  such  matters  has  been  taught  to 
fulfill  her  duties  about  a  mistress  recumbent  in  an 
easy-chair  before  an  open  window,  and  to  not 
profane  with  chatter  that  sweet  and  solemn 
time.     This  girl  is  grieved  at  my  habit   of  living 

/     almost  in  the  garden,  and  all  her  ideas  as  to  the 

^^     sort  of  life  a  respectable  German  lady  should  lead 

have  got  into  a  sad  muddle  since  she  came  tome. 

The  people  round  about  are  persuaded  that  I  am, 

to  put  it  as  kindly  as  possible,  exceedingly  eccen- 

X  trie  for  the  news  has  traveled  that  I  spend  the  day 
out  of  doors  with  a  book,  and  that  no  mortal  eye 
has  ever  yet  seen  me  sew  or  cook.  But  why  cook 
when  you  can  get  some  one  to  cook  for  you? 
And  as  for  sewing,  the  maids  will  hem  the  sheets 
better  and  quicker  than  I  could,  and  all  forms 
of  needlework  of  the  fancy  order  are  inven- 
tions of  the  Evil  One  for  keeping  the  foolish 
from  applying  their  hearts  to  wisdom. 

We  had  been  married  five  years  before  it  struck 
us  that  we  might  as  well  make  use  of  this  place 
bv  coming  down  and  living  in  it.  Those  five 
years  were  spent  in  a  flat  in  a  town,  and  daring 
their  whole  interminable  length  I  was  perfectly 
miserable  and  perfectly  healthy,  which  disposes 


i-U 


'^ 


Elizabeth  and  H 

of  the  ugly  notion  that  has  at  times  disturbed  me 
that  my  happiness  here  is  less  due  to  the  garden 
than  to  a  good  digestion.  And  while  we  were 
wasting  our  lives  there,  here  was  this  dear  place, 
with  dandelions  up  to  the  very  door,  all  the  paths 
grass-grown  and  completely  effaced,  in  winter  so 
lonely,  with  nobody  but  the  north  wind  taking 
the  least  notice  of  it,  and  in  May — in  all  those 
five  lovely  Mays — no  one  to  look  at  the  wonder- 
ful bird-cherries  and  still  more  wonderful  masses 
of  lilacs,  everything  glowing  and  blowing,  the 
Virginia  creeper  madder  every  year  until  at  last, 
in  October,  the  very  roof  was  wreathed  with 
blood-red  tresses,  the  owls  and  the  squirrels  and 
all  the  blessed  little  birds  reigning  supreme,  and 
not  a  living  creature  ever  entering  the  empty 
house  except  the  snakes,  which  got  into  the  habit 
during  those  silent  years  of  wriggling  up  the  south 
wall  into  the  rooms  on  that  side  whenever  the 
old  housekeeper  opened  the  windows.  All  that 
was  here, — peace,  and  happiness,  and  a  reasonable 
life, — and  yet  it  never  struck  me  to  come  and 
live  in  it.  Looking  back  I  am  astonished,  and 
can  in  no  way  account  for  the  tardiness  of  my 
discovery  that  here,  in  this  far-away  corner,  was 


"k. 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


my  kingdom  of  heaven.  Indeed,  so  little  did  it  en- 
ter my  head  to  even  use  the  place  in  summer,  that 
I  submitted  to  weeks  of  seaside  life,  with  all  its 
horrors,  every  year ;  until  at  last,  in  the  early 
spring  of  last  year,  having  come  down  for  the 
opening  of  the  village  school,  and  wandering  out 
afterward  into  the  bare  and  desolate  garden,  I 
don't  know  what  smell  of  wet  earth  or  rotting 
leaves  brought  back  my  childhood  with  a  rush, 
and  all  the  happy  days  I  had  spent  in  a  garden. 
Shall  I  ever  forget  that  day  ?  It  was  the  begin- 
ning of  my  real  life ;  my  coming  of  age,  as  it 
were,  and  entering  into  my  kingdom.  Early 
March,  gray,  quiet  skies,  and  brown,  quiet  earth ; 
leafless  and  sad  and  lonely  enough  out  there  in 
the  damp  and  silence,  yet  there  I  stood  feeling 
the  same  rapture  of  pure  delight  in  the  first 
breath  of  spring  that  I  used  to  as  a  child  ;  and 
the  five  wasted  years  fell  from  me  like  a  cloak, 
and  the  world  was  full  of  hope,  and  I  vowed  my- 
self then  and  there  to  nature,  and  have  been 
happy  ever  since. 

My  other  half  being  indulgent,  and  with  some 
faint  thought  perhaps  that  it  might  be  as  well  to 
look  after  the  place,  consented  to  live  in  it,  at  any 


T  h^ 


1 


'^^^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


rate  for  a  time ;  whereupon  followed  six  specially 
blissful  weeks  from  the  end  of  April  into  June, 
during  which  I  was  here  alone,  supposed  to  be 
superintending  the  painting  and  papering,  but,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  only  going  into  the  house  when 
the  workmen  had  gone  out  of  it. 

How  happy  I  was  !  I  don't  remember  any 
time  quite  so  perfect  since  the  days  when  I  was 
too  little  to  do  lessons  and  was  turned  out  with 
sugar  on  my  eleven-o'clock  bread  and  butter 
onto  a  lawn  closely  strewn  with  dandelions  and 
daisies.  The  sugar  on  the  bread  and  butter  has 
lost  its  charm,  but  I  love  the  dandelions  and 
daisies  even  more  passionately  now  than  then, 
and  never  would  endure  to  see  them  all  mown 
away  if  I  were  not  certain  that  in  a  day  or  two 
they  would  be  pushing  up  their  little  faces  again 
as  jauntily  as  ever.  During  those  six  weeks  I 
lived  in  a  world  of  dandelions  and  delights.  The 
dandelions  carpeted  the  three  lawns — they  used 
to  be  lawns,  but  have  long  since  blossomed  out 
into  meadows  filled  with  every  sort  of  pretty 
weed — and  under  and  among  the  groups  of  leafless 
oaks  and  beeches  were  blue  hepaticas,  white 
anemones,  violets,  and  celandines  in  sheets.     The 


-^ 


/^r 


^ 


\,^i 


1. 


^^^f** 


fe 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

celandines  in  particular  delighted  me,  with  their 
clean,  happy  brightness,  so  beautifully  trim  and 
newly  varnished,  as  though  they  too  had  had  the 
painters  at  work  on  them.  Then,  when  the  anem- 
ones went,  came  a  few  stray  periwinkles  and 
Solomon's-seal,  and  all  the  bird-cherries  blos- 
somed in  a  burst.  And  then,  before  I  had  got  a 
little  used  to  the  joy  of  their  flowers  against  the 
sky,  came  the  lilacs — masses  and  masses  of  them, 
in  clumps  on  the  grass,  with  other  shrubs  and 
trees  by  the  side  of  walks,  and  one  great  con- 
tinuous bank  of  them  half  a  mile  long  right  past 
the  west  front  of  the  house,  away  down  as  far 
as  one  could  see,  shining  glorious  against  a  back- 
ground of  firs.  When  that  time  came,  and  when, 
before  it  was  over,  the  acacias  all  blossomed 
too,  and  four  great  clumps  of  pale,  silvery -pink 
peonies  flowered  under  the  south  windows,  I  felt 
so  absolutely  happy,  and  blest,  and  thankful,  and 
grateful,  that  I  really  cannot  describe  it.  My  days 
seemed  to  melt  away  in  a  dream  of  pink  and 
purple  peace. 

There  were  only  the  old  housekeeper  and  her 
handmaiden  in  the  house,  so  that  on  the  plea  of 
not  o^ivingr  too  much  trouble  I    could   indulge 


^4 


I 

0% 


1 


(^ 


-^^ 


:":"-'-■-•  *" 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

what  my  other  half  calls  my  fantaisie  dtrtglee 
as  regards  meals — that  is  to  say,  meals  so  sim- 
ple that  they  could  be  brought  out  to  the  lilacs 
on  a  tray  ;  and  I  lived,  I  remember,  on  salad 
and  bread  and  tea  the  whole  time,  sometimes  a 
very  tiny  pigeon  appearing  at  lunch  to  save  me, 
as  the  old  lady  thought,  from  starvation.  Who 
but  a  woman  could  have  stood  salad  for  six 
weeks,  even  salad  sanctified  by  the  presence  and 
scent  of  the  most  gorgeous  lilac  masses  ?  I  did, 
and  grew  in  grace  every  day,  though  I  have 
never  liked  it  since.  How  often  now,  oppressed 
by  the  necessity  of  assisting  at  three  dining-  '^^^Qr^ 
room  meals  daily,  two  of  which  are  conducted  ^i^^'fy 
by  the  functionaries  held  indispensable  to  a 
proper  maintenance  of  the  family  dignity,  and 
all  of  which  are  pervaded  by  joints  of  meat,  how 
often  do  I  think  of  my  salad  days,  forty  in  num- 
ber, and  of  the  blessedness  of  being  alone  as  I 
was  then  alone  ! 

And   then  the  evenings,  when   the   workmen  ^"^j 
had  all  gone  and  the  house  was  left  to  emptiness 
and  echoes,  and  the  old  housekeeper  had  gathered 
up  her  rheumatic  limbs  into  her   bed,   and   my 
little  room  in  quite  another  part  of  the  house  had 


m^-M 


«*r. 


'..J-.y'. 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden 


been  set  ready,  how  reluctantly  I  used  to  leave 
the  friendly  frogs  and  owls,  and,  with  my  heart 
somewhere  down  in  my  shoes,  lock  the  door  to 
the  garden  behind  me,  and  pass  through  the  long 
series  of  echoing  south  rooms  full  of  shadows  and 
ladders  and  ghostly  pails  of  painters'  mess,  and, 
humming  a  tune  to  make  myself  believe  I  liked 
it,  go  rather  slowly  across  the  brick-floored  hall  up 
the  creaking  stairs,  down  the  long  whitewashed 
passage,  and  with  a  final  rush  of  panic  whisk  into 
my  room  and  double  lock  and  bolt  the  door  ! 

There  were  no  bells  in  the  house,  and  I  used 
to  take  a  great  dinner  bell  to  bed  with  me  so 
that  at  least  I  might  be  able  to  make  a  noise  if 
frightened  in  the  night,  though  what  good  it 
would  have  been  I  don't  know,  as  there  was  no 
one  to  hear.  The  housemaid  slept  in  another 
little  cell  opening  out  of  mine,  and  we  two  were 
the  only  living  creatures  in  the  great  empty 
west  wing.  She  evidently  did  not  believe  in 
ghosts,  for  I  could  hear  how  she  fell  asleep 
immediately  after  getting  into  bed  ;  nor  do  I 
believe  in  them,  "  mais  je  les  redoute^''  as  a 
French  lady  said,  who  from  her  books  appears  to 
have  been  stronc^-minded. 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

The  dinner  bell  was  a  great  solace  ;  it  was 
never  rung,  but  it  comforted  me  to  see  it  on  the 
chair  beside  my  bed,  as  my  nights  were  any- 
thing but  placid,  it  was  all  so  strange,  and  there 
were  such  queer  creakings  and  other  noises.  I 
used  to  lie  awake  for  hours,  startled  out  of  a 
light  sleep  by  the  cracking  of  some  board,  and 
listen  to  the  indifferent  snores  of  the  girl  in  the 
next  room.  In  the  morning,  of  course,  I  was  as 
brave  as  a  lion  and  much  amused  at  the  cold  per- 
spirations of  the  night  before  ;  but  even  the 
nights  seem  to  me  now  to  have  been  delightful, 
and  myself  like  those  historic  boys  who  heard  a 
voice  in  every  wind  and  snatched  a  fearful  joy. 
I  would  gladly  shiver  through  them  all  over 
again  for  the  sake  of  the  beautiful  purity  of  the 
house,  empty  of  servants  and  upholstery. 

How  pretty  the  bedrooms  looked,  with  nothing 
in  them  but  their  cheerful  new  papers  !  Some- 
times I  would  go  into  those  that  were  finished 
and  build  up  all  sorts  of  castles  in  the  air  about 
their  future  and  their  past.  Would  the  nuns 
who  had  lived  in  them  know  their  little  white- 
washed cells  again,  all  gay  with  delicate  flower 
papers  and  clean  white  paint  ?    And  how  aston- 


T 


ished  they  would  be  to  see  cell  No.  li  turned  into 
a  bathroom,  with  a  bath  big  enough  to  insure  a 
cleanliness  of  body  equal  to  their  purity  of  soul ! 
They  would  look  upon  it  as  a  snare  of  the  Temp- 
ter ;  and  I  know  that  in  my  own  case  I  only  began 
to  be  shocked  at  the  blackness  of  my  nails  the 
day  that  I  began  to  lose  the  first  whiteness  of  my 
soul  by  falling  in  love  at  fifteen  with  the  parish 

\\  organist,  or  rather  with  the  glimpse  of  surplice 
and  Koman  nose  and  fiery  mustache  which  was 

^  I  all  I  ever  saw  of  him,  and  which  I  loved  to  dis- 
traction for  at  least  six  months ;  at  the  end  of 
which  time,  going  out  with  my  governess  one  day, 
I  passed  him  in  the  street,  and  discovered  that  his 
unofficial  garb  was  a  frock-coat  combined  with  a 
turndown  collar  and  a  "  bowler"  hat,  and  never 
loved  him  any  more. 

The  first  part  of  that  time  of  blessedness  was 
the  most  perfect,  for  I  had  not  a  thought  of  any- 
thing but  the  peace  and  beauty  all  round  me. 
Then  he  appeared  suddenly  who  has  a  right  to 
appear  when  and  how  he  will,  and  rebuked  me 
for  never  having  written,  and  when  I  told  him 
that  I  had  been  literally  too  happy  to  think  of 
writino;,  he  seemed  to  take  it  as  a  reflection  on 


^ 


^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

himself  that  I  could  be  happ}^  alone.  I  took  liim 
round  the  garden  along  the  new  paths  I  had  had 
made,  and  showed  him  the  acacia  and  lilac 
glories,  and  he  said  that  it  was  the  purest  selfish- 
ness to  enjoy  myself  when  neither  he  nor  the  off- 
spring were  with  me,  and  that  the  lilacs  wanted 
thorough  pruning.  I  tried  to  appease  him  by  offer- 
ing him  the  whole  of  my  salad  and  toast  supper 
which  stood  ready  at  the  foot  of  the  little  veranda 
steps  when  we  came  back,  but  nothing  appeased 
that  Man  of  Wrath,  and  he  said  he  would  go 
straight  back  to  the  neglected  family.  So  he 
went ;  and  the  remainder  of  the  precious  time 
was  disturbed  by  twinges  of  conscience  (to  which 
I  am  much  subject)  whenever  I  found  myself 
wanting  to  jump  for  joy.  I  w^ent  to  look  at  the 
painters  every  time  my  feet  were  for  taking  me 
to  look  at  the  garden ;  I  trotted  diligently  up  and 
down  the  passages;  I  criticised  and  suggested 
and  commanded  more  in  one  day  than  I  had  done 
in  all  the  rest  of  the  time  ;  I  wrote  regularly  and 
sent  my  love  ;  but  I  could  not  manage  to  fret  and 
yearn.  What  are  you  to  do  if  your  conscience  is 
clear  and  your  liver  in  order  and  the  sun  is  shin- 
ing ? 


P    "  w 


I 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden 


2Iay  10. — I  kne^y  nothing  whatever  last  year 
about  gardening  and  this  year  know  very  little 
more,  but  I  have  dawnings  of  what  may  be  done, 
and  have  at  least  made  one  great  stride— from 
ipomsea  to  tea-roses. 

The  garden  was  an  absolute  wilderness.  It  is 
all  round  the  house,  but  the  principal  part  is  on 
the  south  side  and  has  evidently  always  been  so. 
The  south  front  is  one-storied,  a  long  series  of 
rooms  opening  one  into  the  other,  and  the  walls 
are  covered  with  Virginia  creeper.  There  is  a 
little  veranda  in  the  middle,  leading  by  a  flight 
of  rickety  wooden  steps  down  into  what  seems  to 
have  been  the  only  spot  in  the  whole  place  that 
was  ever  cared  for.  This  is  a  semicircle  cut  into 
the  lawn  and  edged  with  privet,  and  in  this  semi- 
circle are  eleven  beds  of  different  sizes  bordered 
with  box  and  arranged  round  a  sun-dial,  and  the 
sun-dial  is  very  venerable  and  moss-grown,  and 
greatly  beloved  by  me.  These  beds  were  the  only 
sign  of  any  attempt  at  gardening  to  be  seen 
(except  a  solitary  crocus  that  came  up  all  by  itself 
each  spring  in  the  grass,  not  because  it  wanted  to, 
but  because  it  could  not  help  it),  and  these  I  had 
sown   with   ipomsea,   the  whole   eleven,   having 


i 


Tlf 


1 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

found  a  German  gardening  book,  according  to 
Avhich  ipomaea  in  vast  quantities  was  the  one 
thing  needful  to  turn  the  most  hideous  desert  into 
a  paradise.  Xothing  else  in  that  book  was  rec- 
ommended with  anything  like  the  same  warmth, 
and  being  entirely  ignorant  of  the  quantity  of 
seed  necessary,  I  bought  ten  pounds  of  it  and  had 
it  sown  not  only  in  the  eleven  beds,  but  round 
nearly  every  tree,  and  then  waited  in  great  agita- 
tion for  the  promised  paradise  to  appear.  It  did 
not,  and  I  learned  my  first  lesson. 

Luckily  I  had  sown  two  great  patches  of  sweet- 
peas,  which  made  me  very  happy  all  the  summer, 
and  then  there  were  some  sunflowers  and  a  few 
hollyhocks  under  the  south  windows,  with  Ma- 
donna lilies  in  between .  But  the  lilies,  after  being 
transplanted,  disappeared,  to  my  great  dismay, 
for  how  was  I  to  know  it  was  the  way  of  lilies  ? 
And  the  hollyhocks  turned  out  to  be  rather  ugly 
colors,  so  that  my  first  summer  was  decorated 
and  beautified  solely  by  sweet-peas. 

At  present  we  are  only  just  beginning  to 
breathe  after  the  bustle  of  getting  new  beds  and 
borders  and  paths  made  in  time  for  this  summer. 
The  eleven  beds  round  the  sun-dial  are  filled  with 


I 


A, 


vv 
ki 


roses. 


^«^^V; 


as 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

but  I  see  already  that  I  have  made  mis- 
takes with  some.  As  I  have  not  a  living  soul 
with  whom  to  hold  communion  on  this  or,  indeed, 
on  any  matter,  my  only  way  of  learning  is  by 
making  mistakes.  All  eleven  were  to  have  been 
carpeted  with  purple  pansies,  but  finding  that  I 
had  not  enough  and  that  nobody  had  any  to  sell 
me,  only  six  have  got  their  pansies,  the  others 
being  sown  with  dwarf  mignonette.  Two  of  the 
eleven  are  filled  with  Marie  van  Iloutte  roses, 
two  with  Viscountess  Folkestone,  two  with  Lau- 
rette  Messimy,  one  with  Souvenir  de  la  Malmai- 
son,  one  with  Adam  and  Devoniensis,  two  with 
Persian  Yellow  and  Bicolor,  and  one  big  bed  be- 
hind the  sun-dial  with  three  sorts  of  red  roses 
(seventy-two  in  all),  Duke  of  Teck,  Cheshunt 
Scarlet,  and  Prefet  de  Limburg.  This  bed  is,  I 
am  sure,  a  mistake,  and  several  of  the  others  are, 
I  think,  but  of  course  I  must  wait  and  see,  being 
such  an  ignorant  person.  Then  I  have  had  two 
long  beds  made  in  the  grass  on  either  side  of  the  J^^ 
semicircle,  each  sown  with  mignonette,  and  one  ^ 
filled  with  Marie  van  Houtte,  and  the  other  with  ^ 
Jules  Finger  and  the  Bride:  and  in  a  warm  corner  f  v; 
under   the   drawing-room    windows  is  a   bed  of     / 


^A^ 


m^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

Madame  Lauibard,  Madame  de  Watteville,  and 
Comtesse  Riza  du  Pare  ;  while  farther  down  the 
garden,  sheltered  on  the  north  and  west  by  a 

group  of  beeches  and  lilacs,  is  another  large  bed,    . , 

containing   Eubens,   Madame   Joseph   Schwartz,    \j\   iJj  ^ 

and  the  lion.  Edith  Gifford.     All  these  roses  are 

dwarf  :  I  have  only  two  standards  in  the  whole 

garden,  two  Madame   George   Eruants,  and  they 

look  like  broomsticks.     How  I   long  for  the  day 

when  the  teas  open  their  buds  !    Xever  did  I  look 

forward  so  intensely  to  anything  ;  and  every  day 

I  go  the  rounds,  admiring  what  the  dear  little 

things  have  achieved  in  the  twenty-four  hours  in 

the  way  of  new  leaf  or  increase  of  lovely  red 

shoot. 

The  hollyhocks  and  lilies  (now  flourishing)  are 
still  under  the  south  windows  in  a  narrow  border 
on  the  top  of  a  grass  slope,  at  the  foot  of  which 
I  have  sown  two  long  borders  of  sweet-peas 
facing  the  rose  beds,  so  that  my  roses  may  have 
something  almost  as  sweet  as  themselves  to  look 
at  until  the  autumn,  when  everything  is  to  make 
place  for  more  tea-roses.  The  path  leading  away 
from  this  semicircle  down  the  garden  is  bordered 
with  China  roses,  white  and  pink,  with  here  and    j) 


vZw/Al\^  aD] 


\%^^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

there  a  Persian  Yellow.  I  wish  now  I  had  put 
teas  there,  and  I  have  misgivings  as  to  the  effect 
of  the  Persian  Yellows  among  the  Chinas,  for  the 
Chinas  are  such  wee  little  baby  things,  and  the 
Persian  Yellows  look  as  though  they  intended  to 
be  big  bushes. 

There  is  not  a  creature  in  all  this  part  of  the 
world  who  could  in  the  least  understand  with 
what  heart-beatings  I  am  looking  forward  to  the 
flowering  of  these  roses,  and  not  a  German  gar- 
dening book  that  does  not  relegate  all  teas  to  hot- 
houses, imprisoning  them  for  life,  and  depriving 
them  forever  of  the  breath  of  God.  It  was  no 
doubt  because  I  was  so  ignorant  that  I  rushed 
in  where  Teutonic  angels  fear  to  tread,  and  made 
my  teas  face  a  northern  winter;  but  they  did 
face  it  under  fir  branches  and  leaves,  and  not  one 
has  suffered,  and  they  are  looking  to-day  as 
happy  and  as  determined  to  enjoy  themselves 
as  any  roses,  I  am  sure,  in  Europe. 

May  14. — To-day  I  am  writing  on  the  veranda 
^  with  the  three  babies,  more  persistent  than  mos- 
quitoes, raging  round  me,  and  already  several  of 
the  thirty  fingers  have  been  in  the  ink-pot  and 


M 


r^rrA 


■YfM 


5i^m 


> 


^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

^i  the  owners  consoled  when  duty  pointed  to  re- 
'2i  bukes.  But  who  can  rebuke  such  penitent  and 
1^  drooping  sun  bonnets  ?  I  can  see  nothing  but 
^  sunbonnets  and  pinafores  and  nimble  black  legs. 
\J  These  three,  their  patient  nurse,  myself,  the  Q^\ 
gardener,  and  the  gardener's  assistant  are  the 
only  people  who  ever  go  into  my  garden,  but 
^  then  neither  are  we  ever  out  of  it.  The  gardener 
(  ^  has  been  here  a  year,  and  has  given  me  notice  /' Ai^^f 
v-_^    regularly  on  the  first  of  every  month,  but  up  to   ^^\Ji^.^^^" 

now  has  been  induced  to  stay  on.     On  the  first 

V    <    of  this  month  he  came  as  usual,  and  with  deter- 

_v  -    mi  nation  written  on  every  feature  told   me  he 

A   intended  to  go  in  June,  and  that  nothing  should 

^     alter  his  decision.     I  don't  think  he  knows  much 

about  gardening,   but  he  can  at  least  dig  and 

^j/  (^^   water,  and  some  of  the  things  he  sows  comes  up, 

and  some  of  the  plants  he  plants  grow,  besides 

^^^^    which   he   is   the  most  unfiaggingly  industrious 

person  I    ever    saw,    and   has  the    great  merit 

of  never  appearing  to  take  the  faintest  interest 

<C^    in  what  we  do  in  the  garden.     So  I  have  tried 

to  keep  him  on,  not  knowing  what  the  next  one 

ma}^  be  like,  and  when  I  asked  him  what  he  had 

to  complain  of  and  he  replied  "  Nothing,"  I  could 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

only  conclude  that  he  has  a  personal  objection  to 
me  because  of  my  eccentric  preference  for  plants 
in  groups  rather  than  plants  in  lines.  Perhaps, 
too,  he  does  not  like  the  extracts  from  gardening 
books  I  read  to  him  sometimes  when  he  is  plant- 
ing or  sowing  something  ne\T^.  Being  so  helpless 
myself  1  thought  it  simpler,  instead  of  explaining, 
to  take  the  book  itself  out  to  him  and  let  him 
have  wisdom  at  its  very  source,  administering  it 
in  doses  while  he  worked.  I  quite  recognize  that 
this  must  be  annoying,  and  only  nay  anxiety  not 
to  lose  a  whole  year  through  some  stupid  mistake 
has  given  me  the  courage  to  do  it.  I  laugh 
sometimes  behind  the  book  at  his  disgusted  face, 
and  wish  we  could  be  photographed,  so  that  I 
may  be  reminded  in  twenty  years'  time,  when  the 
garden  is  a  bower  of  loveliness  and  I  learned 
in  all  its  ways,  of  my  first  happy  struggles  and 
failures. 

All  through  April  he  was  putting  the  peren- 
nials we  had  sown  in  the  autumn  into  their  per- 
manent places,  and  all  through  April  he  went 
about  with  a  long  piece  of  string  making  parallel 
lines  down  the  borders  of  beautiful  exactitude 
and  arranging  the  poor  plants  like  soldiers  at  a 


.-Xa.-: 


V, 


I 


A 


^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

review.  Two  long  boiders  were  done  during  my 
absence  one  day,  and  when  I  explained  that  I 
should  like  the  third  to  have  plants  in  groups  and 
not  in  lines,  and  that  what  I  wanted  was  a  nat- 
ural effect,  ^vith  no  bare  spaces  of  earth  to  be 
seen,  he  looked  even  more  gloomily  hopeless  than 
usual ;  and  on  my  going  out  later  on  to  see  the 
result  I  found  he  had  planted  two  long  borders 
down  the  sides  of  a  straight  walk  with  little  lines 
of  five  plants  in  a  row — first  five  pinks,  and  next 
to  them  five  rockets,  and  behind  the  rockets  five 
pinks,  and  behind  the  pinks  five  rockets,  and  so 
on  with  different  plants  of  every  sort  and  size 
down  to  the  end.  When  I  protested,  he  said 
he  had  only  carried  out  my  orders  and  had 
known  it  v^^ould  not  look  vrell ;  so  I  gave  in,  and 
the  remaining  borders  were  done  after  the  pat- 
tern of  the  first  two ;  and  I  will  have  patience 
and  see  how  they  look  this  summer,  before  dig- 
ging  them  up  again  ;  for  it  becomes  beginners  to 
be  humble. 

If  I  could  only  dig  and  plant  myself  !  How 
much  easier,  besides  being  so  fascinating,  to  make 
your  own  holes  exactly  where  you  want  them 
and  put  in  your  plants  exactly  as  you  choose, 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

•^  instead  of  giving  orders  that  can  only  be  half 
understood  from  the  moment  you  depart  from 
the  lines  laid  down  by  that  long  piece  of  string  ! 
In  the  first  ecstasy  of  having  a  garden  all  my 
own,  and  in  my  burning  impatience  to  make  the 
waste  places  blossom  like  a  rose,  I  did  one  warm 
Sunday  in  last  year's  April,  daring  the  servants- 
dinner  hour,  doubly  secure  from  the  gardener  by 
the  day  and  the  dinner,  slink  out  with  a  spade 
and  a  rake  and  feverishly  dig  a  little  piece  of 
ground  and  break  it  up  and  sow  surreptitious 
ipomsea,  and  run  back  very  hot  and  guilty  into 
the  house  and  get  into  a  chair  and  behind  a  book 
and  look  languid  just  in  time  to  save  my  repu- 
tation. And  why  not  ?  It  is  not  graceful,  and 
it  makes  one  hot ;  but  it  is  a  blessed  sort  of  work, 
and  if  Eve  had  had  a  spade  in  Paradise  and 
known  what  to  do  with  it,  we  should  not  have 
had  all  that  sad  business  of  the  apple. 

What  a  happy  woman  I  am,  living  in  a  garden, 
with  books,  babies,  birds,  and  flowers,  and  plenty 
of  leisure  to  enjoy  them  !  Yet  my  town  acquaint- 
ances look  upon  it  as  imprisonment,  and  burying, 
and  I  don't  know  what  besides,  and  would  rend 
the  air  with  their  shrieks  if  condemned  to  such  a 


^ 


v;^ 


I    1 


M 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden,     ^^^r:^^^ 

life.  Sometimes  1  feel  as  if  I  were  blest  above  all 
my  fellows  in  being  able  to  find  my  happiness  so 
easily.  I  believe  I  should  always  be  good  if  the 
sun  always  shone,  and  could  enjoy  myself  very 
well  in  Siberia  on  a  fine  day.  And  what  can  life 
in  town  oflFer  in  the  way  of  pleasure  to  equal  the 
delight  of  any  one  of  the  calm  evenings  I  have 
had  this  month  sitting  alone  at  the  foot  of  the 
veranda  steps,  with  the  perfume  of  young  larches 
all  about,  and  the  May  moon  hanging  low  over 
the  beeches,  and  the  beautiful  silence  made  only 
more  profound  in  its  peace  by  the  croaking  of 
distant  frogs  and  the  hooting  of  owls  ?  A  cock- 
chafer, darting  by  close  to  my  ear  with  a  loud 
hum,  sends  a  shiver  through  me,  partly  of  pleas- 
ure at  the  reminder  of  past  summers,  and  partly 
of  fear  lest  he  should  get  caught  in  my  hair. 
The  Man  of  Wrath  says  they  are  pernicious 
creatures  and  should  be  killed.  I  would  rather 
D-et  the  killing  done  at  the  end  of  the  summer, 
and  not  crush  them  out  of  such  a  pretty  world 
at  the  very  beginning  of  all  the  fun. 

This  has  been  quite  an  eventful  afternoon.  My 
eldest  baby,  born  in  April,  is  five  years  old,  and 
the  vouncrest.  born  in  June,  is  three  ;  so  that  the 


^^^ 


f;]^^Of -A^Z.  A^^;, 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden 


discerning  will  at  once  be  able  to  guess  the  age 
of  the  remaining  middle  or  May  baby.  While 
I  was  stooping  over  a  group  of  hollyhocks  planted 
on  the  top  of  the  only  thing  in  the  shape  of  a  hill 
the  garden  possesses,  the  April  baby,  who  had 
been  sitting  pensive  on  a  tree  stump  close  by,  got 
up  suddenly  and  began  to  run  aimlessly  about, 
shrieking  and  wringing  her  hands  with  every 
symptom  of  terror.  I  stared,  wondering  what 
had  come  to  her  ;  and  then  I  saw  that  a  whole 
army  of  young  cows,  pasturing  in  a  held  next  to 
the  garden,  had  got  through  the  hedge  and  were 
grazing  perilously  near  my  tea-roses  and  most  pre- 
cious belongings.  The  nurse  and  I  managed  to 
chase  them  away,  but  not  before  they  had  tram- 
pled down  a  border  of  pinks  and  lilies  in  the 
crudest  way,  and  made  great  holes  in  a  bed  of 
China  roses,  and  even  begun  to  nibble  at  a  Jack- 
manni  clematis  that  I  am  trying  to  persuade  to 
climb  up  a  tree  trunk.  The  gloomy  gardener 
happened  to  be  ill  in  bed,  and  the  assistant  was 
at  vespers, — as  Lutheran  Germany  calls  afternoon 
tea  or  its  equivalent, — so  the  nurse  filled  up  the 
holes  as  well  as  she  could  with  mold,  burying  the 
crushed  and  mangled  roses,  cheated  forever  of 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


tbeir  hopes  of  summer  glory,  and  I  stood  by 
loolving  on  dejectedly.  The  June  baby,  Tvho  is 
two  feet  square  and  valiant  beyond  her  size  and 
years,  seized  a  stick  much  bigger  than  herself  and 
went  after  the  cows,  the  cowherd  being  nowhere 
to  be  seen.  She  planted  herself  in  front  of  them, 
brandishing  her  stick,  and  they  stood  in  a  row 
and  stared  at  her  in  great  astonishment  ;  and  she 
kept  them  off  until  one  of  the  men  from  the  farm 
arrived  with  a  w^hip,  and  having  found  the  cow- 
herd sleeping  peacefully  in  the  shade  gave  him  a 
//^^  sound  beating.  The  cowherd  is  a  great  hulking 
v|  young  man,  much  bigger  than  the  man  who  beat 
him,  but  he  took  his  punishment  as  part  of  the 
day's  work  and  made  no  remark  of  any  sort.  It 
could  not  have  hurt  him  much  through  his  leather 
breeches,  and  I  think  he  deserved  it ;  but  it  must 
be  demoralizing  work  for  a  strong  young  man 
with  no  brains  looking  after  cows.  Xobody  with 
less  imagination  than  a  poet  ought  to  take  it  up 
as  a  profession. 

After  the  June  baby  and  I  had  been  welcomed 
back  by  the  other  two  with  as  many  hugs  as 
though  we  had  been  restored  to  them  from  great 
perils,  and  while  we  were  peacefully  drinking  tea 


m^rf 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

under  a  beech  tree,  I  happened  to  look  up  into  its 
mazy  green,  and  there,  on  a  branch  quite  close  to 
my  head,  sat  a  little  baby  owl.  I  got  on  the  seat 
and  caught  it  easily,  for  it  could  not  fly,  and  how 
it  had  reached  the  branch  at  all  is  a  mystery.  It 
is  a  little  round  ball  of  gray  fluff,  with  the  quaint- 
est, wisest,  solemn  face.  Poor  thing !  I  ought 
to  have  let  it  go,  but  the  temptation  to  keep  it 
until  the  Man  of  Wrath,  at  present  on  a  journey, 
has  seen  it,  was  not  to  be  resisted,  as  he  has  often 
said  how  much  he  would  like  to  have  a  young 
owl  and  try  to  tame  it.  So  I  put  it  into  a  roomy 
cage  and  slung  it  up  on  a  branch  near  where  it 
had  been  sitting,  and  which  cannot  be  far  from 
its  nest  and  its  mother.  We  had  hardly  subsided 
again  to  our  tea  when  I  saw  two  more  balls  of 
fluff  on  the  ground,  in  the  long  grass  and  scarcely 
distinguishable  at  a  little  distance  from  small 
mole-hills.  These  were  promptly  united  to  their 
relation  in  the  cage,  and  now  when  the  Man  of 
Wrath  comes  home  not  only  shall  he  be  welcomed  i 
by  a  wife  wreathed  in  the  orthodox  smiles,  but 
by  the  three  little  longed-for  owls.  Only  it  seems 
wicked  to  take  them  from  their  mother,  and  I 
know  that  I  shall  let  them  go  again  some  day — 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

perhaps  the  very  next  time  the  Man  of  Wrath 
o-oes  on  a  journey.  I  put  a  small  pot  of  water  in 
the  cage,  though  they  never  could  have  tasted 
water  yet  unless  they  drink  the  raindrops  off  the 
b^ch  leaves.  I  suppose  they  get  all  the  liquid 
they  need  from  the  bodies  of  the  mice  and  other 
dainties  provided  for  them  by  their  fond  parents. 
But  the  raindrop  idea  is  prettier. 


Mai/  15.— How  cruel  it  was  of  me  to  put  those 
poor  little  owls  into  a  cage  even  for  one  night ! 
I  cannot  forgive  myself,  and  shall  never  pander 
to  the  Man  of  Wrath's  wishes  again.  This  morn- 
ing I  got  up  early  to  see  how  they  were  getting 
on,  and  I  found  the  door  of  the  cage  wide  open 
and  no  owls  to  be  seen.  I  thought,  of  course, 
that  somebody  had  stolen  them— some  boy  from 
the  village,  or  perhaps  the  chastised  cowherd. 
But  looking  about  I  saw  one  perched  high  up  in 
the  branches  of  the  beech  tree,  and  then  to  my 
dismay  one  lying  dead  on  the  ground.  The 
third  was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  and  is  probably 
safe  in  its  nest.  The  parents  must  have  torn  at 
the  bars  of  the  cage  until  by  chance  they  got  the 
door  open,  and  then  dragged  the  little  ones  out 


Xi 


1^' 


>r>^^< 


o;''^-. 


1^ 


^>;'      Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden, 


and  up  into  the  tree.  The  one  that  is  dead  must 
have  been  blown  off  the  branch,  as  it  was  a 
windy  night,  and  its  neck  is  broken.  There  is 
one  happy  life  less  in  the  garden  to-day  through 
my  fault,  and  it  is  such  a  lovely,  warm  day — 
just  the  sort  of  weather  for  young  soft  things  to 
enjoy  and  grow  in.  The  babies  are  greatly  dis- 
tressed, and  are  digging  a  grave  and  preparing 
funeral  wreaths  of  dandelions. 

Just  as  I  had  written  that  I  heard  sounds  of 
arrival,  and  running  out  I  breathlessly  told  the 
Man  of  Wrath  how  nearly  I  had  been  able  to 
give  him  the  owls  he  has  so  often  said  he  would 
like  to  have,  and  how  sorry  I  was  they  were  gone, 
and  how  grievous  the  death  of  one  and  so  on, 
after  the  voluble  manner  of  women. 

He  listened  till  I  paused  to  breathe,  and  then 
he  said,  "  I  am  surprised  at  such  cruelty.  How 
could  you  make  the  mother  owl  suffer  so  ?  She 
had  never  done  you  any  harm." 

Which  sent  me  out  of  the  house  and  into  the 
garden  more  convinced  than  ever  that  he  sang 
true  who  sang, 

"  Tivo   pardises  "'twere  in  07ie  to  live  in  Paradise 
alone.^^ 


ti'>^. 


Si 


S^!M 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden 

May  16.— The  garden  is  the  place  I  go  to  for 
refuge  and  shelter,  not  the  house.  In  the  house 
are  duties  and  annoyances,  servants  to  exhort 
and  admonish,  furniture,  and  meals ;  but  out 
there  blessings  crowd  around  me  at  every  step 
— it  is  there  that  I  am  sorry  for  the  unkindness 
in  me,  for  those  selfish  thoughts  that  are  so 
much  worse  than  they  feel ;  it  is  there  that  all 
my  sins  and  silliness  are  forgiven,  there  that  I 
feel  protected  and  at  home,  and  every  flower 
and  weed  is  a  friend  and  every  tree  a  lover. 
When  I  have  been  vexed  I  run  out  to  them  for 
comfort,  and  when  I  have  been  angry  without 
just  cause,  it  is  there  that  I  find  absolution.  Did 
ever  a  woman  have  so  many  friends  ?  And  al- 
ways the  same,  always  ready  to  welcome  me  and 
fill  me  with  cheerful  thoughts,  Happy  children  ^^ 
of  a  common  Father,  why  should  I,  their  own  !j 
sister,  be  less  content  and  joyous  than  they  1 
Even  in  a  thunderstorm,  when  other  people  are  '\ 
running  into  the  house  I  run  out  of  it.  I  do  not 
like  thunderstorms — they  frighten  me  for  hours 
before  they  come,  because  I  always  feel  them  on 
the  way  ;  but  it  is  odd  that  I  should  go  for  shelter  jJ| 
in  the  garden.     I  feel  better  there,  more  taken  ' 


LIVE    IN  PARADISE 


t 


W'^ 


\ 


ym 


t-  ^--t 


> 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

care  of,  more  petted.  "When  it  thunders,  the 
April  baby  says,  "  There's  lieher  Ciott  scolding 
those  angels  again."  And  once,  when  there  was 
a  storm  in  the  night,  she  complained  loudly  and 
wanted  to  know  why  lieher  G-ott  didn't  do  the 
scolding  in  the  daytime,  as  she  had  been  so  tight 
asleep.  They  all  three  speak  a  wonderful  mix- 
ture of  German  and  English,  and  adulterating  the 
purity  of  their  native  tongue  by  putting  in  English 
words  in  the  middle  of  a  German  sentence.  It 
always  reminds  me  of  Justice  tempered  by  Mercy. 

We  have  been  cowslipping  to-day  in  a  little 
wood  dignified  by  the  name  of  the  Hirschwald, 
because  it  is  the  happy -hunting  ground  of  innu- 
merable deer  who  fight  there  in  the  autumn  even- 
ing calling  each  other  out  to  combat  with  hayings 
that  ring  through  the  silence  and  send  agree- 
able shivers  through  the  lonely  listener.  I  often 
walk  there  in  September,  late  in  the  evening, 
and  sitting  on  a  fallen  tree  listen  fascinated  to 
their  angry  cries. 

"We  made  cowslip  balls  sitting  on  the  grass. 
The  babies  had  never  seen  such  things  nor  had 
imagined  anything  half  so  sweet.  The  Hirsch- 
wald is  a  little  open  wood  of  silver  birches  and 


fm 


'i 


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Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

springy  turf  starred  with  flowers,  and  there  is  a 
tiny  stream  meandering  amiably  about  it  and 
decking  itself  in  June  with  yellow  flags.  I  have 
dreams  of  having  a  little  cottage  built  there, 
with  the  daisies  up  to  the  door,  and  no  path  of 
any  sort — just  big  enough  to  hold  myself  and 
one  baby  inside  and  a  purple  clematis  outside. 
Two  rooms — a  bedroom  and  a  kitchen.  How 
scared  we  would  be  at  night,  and  how  completely 
happy  by  day  I  I  know  the  exact  spot  where  it 
should  stand,  facing  southeast,  so  that  we  should 
get  all  the  cheerfulness  of  the  morning,  and 
close  to  the  stream,  so  that  we  might  wash  our 
plates  among  the  flags.  Sometimes,  when  in  the 
mood  for  societv,  we  would  invite  the  remaininor 
babies  to  tea  and  entertain  them  with  wild  straw- 
berries on  plates  of  horse-chestnut  leaves ;  but 
no  one  less  innocent  and  easily  pleased  than  r 
baby  would  be  permitted  to  darken  the  effulgence 
of  our  sunny  cottage — indeed,  I  don't  suppose 
that  anybody  wiser  v»'ould  care  to  come.  "Wise 
people  want  so  many  things  before  they  can  even 
begin  to  enjoy  themselves,  and  I  feel  perpetually 
apologetic,  when  with  them,  for  only  being  able 
to   offer  them  that  which  I  love  best  mvself — 


> 


u 


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Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


apologetic,  and  ashamed  of  being  so  easily  con- 
tented. 

The  other  day  at  a  dinner  party  in  the  nearest 
town  (it  took  us  the  whole  afternoon  to  get  there) 
the  women  after  dinner  were  curious  to  know 
how  I  had  endured  the  winter,  cut  off  from  every- 
body and  snowed  up  sometimes  for  weeks. 

"  Ah,  these  husbands  !  "  sighed  an  ample  lady, 
lugubriously  shaking  her  head;  "they  shut  up 
their  wives  because  it  suits  them,  and  don't  care 
what  their  sufferings  are.'- 

Then  the  others  sighed  and  shook  their  heads 
too,  for  the  ample  lady  was  a  great  local  poten- 
tate, and  one  began  to  tell  how  another  dreadful 
husband  had  brought  his  young  wife  into  the 
country  and  had  kept  her  there,  concealing  her 
beauty  and  accomplishments  from  the  public  in  a 
most  cruel  manner,  and  how,  after  spending  a 
certain  number  of  years  in  alternately  weepinii 
and  producing  progeny,  she  had  quite  lately  run 
J.\f^^^'i^^^^  away  with  somebody  unspeakable — 1  think  it  was 
the  footman,  or  the  baker,  or  some  one  of  that 
sort. 

"  But  I  am  quite  happy,"  I  began,  as  soon  as  I 
could  put  in  a  word. 


A 


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Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garde 

"  Ah,  a  good  little  wife,  making  the  best  of 
and  the  female  potentate  patted  my  hand,  but 
continued  to  gloomily  shake  her  head. 

"  You  cannot  possibly  be  happy  in  the  winter 
entirely  alone,"  asserted  another  lady,  the  wife 
of  a  high  military  authority  and  not  accustomed    ^^ 
to  ob  contradicted. 

"  But  I  am." 

"  "Rut  how  can  you  possibly  be  at  your  age  ? 
No,  it  is  not  possible." 

"But  I  am." 

''  Your  husband  ought  to  bring  you  to  town  in 
the  winter." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  be  brought  to  town." 

"And   not    let   you  waste   your   best   years 
buried." 

"  But  I  like  being  buried." 

"  Such  solitude  is  not  right." 

"  But  I'm  not  solitary." 

"  And  can  come  to  no  good."    She  was  getting 
quite  angry. 

There  was  a  chorus  of  No  Indeeds  at  her  last 
remark,  and  renewed  shaking  of  heads. 

"  I  enjoyed  the  winter  immensely,"  I  persisted 
when  they  were  a  little  quieter ;  "  I  sleighed  and 


lis 


skated,  and  then    there    were  the  cliildren,  and 

shelves  and  shelves  full  of "  I  was  going  to 

say  books,  but  stopped.  Reading  is  an  occupa- 
tion for  men  ;  for  women  it  is  reprehensible  waste 
of  time.  And  how  could  I  talk  to  them  of  the 
happiness  I  felt  when  the  sun  shone  on  the  snow, 
or  of  the  deep  delight  of  hoar-frost  days  ? 

"  It  is  entirely  my  doing  that  we  have  come 
down  here,"  I  proceeded,  "  and  my  husband  only 
did  it  to  please  me." 

"  Such  a  good  little  wife,"  repeated  the  patron- 
izing potentate,  again  patting  my  hand  with  an 
air  of  understanding  all  about  it,  "  really  an  ex- 
cellent  little  wife.  But  you  must  not  let  your 
husband  have  his  own  way  too  much,  my  dear, 
and  take  my  advice  and  insist  on  his  bringing  you 
to  town  next  winter." 

And  then  they  fell  to  talking  about  their  cooks, 
having  settled  to  their  entire  satisfaction  that  my 
fate  was  probably  lying  in  wait  for  me  too,  lurk- 
ing perhaps  at  that  very  moment  behind  the  ap- 
parently harmless  brass  buttons  of  the  man  in  ^vfr^ 
the  hall  with  my  cloak. 

I   laughed   on  the  way  home,  and  I  laughed  ^^^jT^ 
again  for  sheer  satisfaction  when  we  reached  the    ~^^> 


f^'=^J^'. 


t^  - 


—  JS      o 


■    m 


,  N^ 


i^'(^i 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German   Garden. 

garden  and  drove  between  the  quiet  trees  to  the 
pretty  old  house  ;  and  when  I  went  into  the 
library,  with  its  four  windows  open  to  the  moon- 
licrht  and  the  scent,  and  looked  round  at  the 
familiar  bookshelves,  and  could  hear  no  sounds 
but  sounds  of  peace,  and  knew  that  here  I  might 
\  read  or  dream  or  idle  exactly  as  I  chose  with 
never  a  creature  to  disturb  me,  how  grateful  1 
felt  to  the  kindly  Fate  that  has  brought  me  here 
and  given  me  a  heart  to  understand  my  own 
blessedness,  and  rescued  me  from  a  life  like  that 
I  had  just  seen — a  life  spent  with  the  odors  of 
other  people's  dinners  in  one's  nostrils,  and  the 
noise  of  their  wrangling  servants  in  one's  ears, 
and  parties  and  tattle  for  all  amusement. 

But  I  must  confess  to  having  felt  sometimes 
quite  crushed  when  some  grand  person,  examin- 
ing the  details  of  my  home  through  her  eyeglass, 
and  coolly  dissecting  all  that  I  so  much  prize  from 
the  convenient  distance  of  the  open  window,  has 
finished  up  by  expressing  sympathy  with  my 
loneliness,  and  on  my  protesting  that  I  like  it, 
has  murmured,  "  sehr  anspruchslos.'''  Then  I  have 
felt  ashamed  of  the  fewness  of  my  wants ;  but 
only  for  a  moment,  and  only  under  the  wither- 


I  ._v. 


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Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden.     39 

iDg  influence  of  the  eyeglass ;  for  after  all,  the 
owner's  spirit  is  the  same  spirit  as  that  which 
dwells  in  my  servants — girls  whose  one  idea  of 
happiness  is  to  live  in  a  town  where  there  are 
others  of  their  sort  with  whom  to  drink  beer  and 
dance  on  Sunday  afternoons.  The  passion  for 
being  forever  with  one's  fellows,  and  the  fear  of 
being  left  for  a  few  hours  alone,  is  to  me  wholly 
incomprehensible.  I  can  entertain  myself  quite 
well  for  weeks  together,  hardly  aware,  except  for 
the  pervading  peace,  that  I  have  been  alone  at  all. 
Not  but  what  I  like  to  have  people  staying  with 
me  for  a  few  days,  or  even  for  a  few  weeks, 
should  they  be  as  ansjpruchslos  as  I  am  myself, 
and  content  with  simple  joys ;  only,  any  one  who 
comes  here  and  would  be  happy  must  have  some- 
thing in  him ;  if  he  be  a  mere  blank  creature, 
empty  of  head  and  heart,  he  will  very  probably 
find  it  dull.  I  should  like  my  house  to  be  often 
full  if  I  could  find  people  capable  of  enjoying 
themselves.  They  should  be  welcomed  and  sped 
with  equal  heartiness ;  for  truth  compels  me  to 
confess  that,  though  it  pleases  me  to  see  them 
come,  it  pleases  me  just  as  much  to  see  them  go. 
On  some  very  specially  divine  days,  like  to- 


^ 


"^^^ 


Ji^. 


# 


Hi' 


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Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

^AD^  day,  I  have  actually  longed  for  some  one  else  to 
W^^/'l  be  here  to  enjoy  the  beauty  with  me.  There 
has  been  rain  in  the  night,  and  the  whole  garden 
-^.v  \  ■  seems  to  be  singing — not  the  untiring  birds 
f\'  only,  but  the  vigorous  plants,  the  happy  grass 
3^^>^  and  trees,  the  lilac  bushes — oh,  those  lilac  bushes ! 
TheV  are  all  out  to-day,  and  the  garden  is  drenched 
with  the  scent.  I  have  brought  in  armfuls,  the 
picking  is  such  a  delight,  and  every  pot  and  bowl 
and  tub  in  the  house  is  filled  with  purple  glory, 
and  the  servants  think  there  is  going  to  be  a  party 
and  are  extra  nimble,  and  I  go  from  room  to  room 
gazing  at  the  sweetness,  and  the  windows  are  all 
flung  open  so  as  to  join  the  scent  within  to 
the  scent  without ;  and  the  servants  gradually 
discover  that  there  is  no  party,  and  wonder  why 
the  house  should  be  filled  with  flowers  for  one 
woman  by  herself,  and  I  long  more  and  more  for 
a  kindred  spirit— it  seems  so  greedy  to  have  so 
much  loveliness  to  one's  self — but  kindred  spirits 
are  so  very,  very  rare  ;  I  might  almost  as  well 
cry  for  the  moon.  It  is  true  that  my  garden  is 
full  of  friends,  only  they  are — dumb. 

Ju7ie  3. — This  is  such  an  out-of-the-way  corner 


'if, 


r»«» 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


of  the  world  that  it  requires  quite  unusual  energy 
to  get  here  at  all,  and  I  am  thus  delivered  from 
casual  callers ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  people 
I  love,  or  people  who  love  me,  which  is  much  the 
same  thing,  are  not  likely  to  be  deterred  from 
coming  by  the  roundabout  train  journey  and  the 
long  drive  at  the  end.  ISTot  the  least  of  my  many 
blessings  is  that  we  have  only  one  neighbor.  If 
you  have  to  have  neighbors  at  all,  it  is  at  least  a 
mercy  that  there  should  be  only  one ;  for  with 
people  dropping  in  at  all  hours  and  wanting  to 
talk  to  you,  how  are  you  to  get  on  with  your  life, 
I  should  like  to  know,  and  read  your  books,  and 
dream  your  dreams  to  your  satisfaction  ?  Be- 
sides, there  is  always  the  certainty  that  either 
you  or  the  dropper-in  will  say  something  that 
would  have  been  better  left  unsaid,  and  I  have  a 
holy  horror  of  gossip  and  mischief -making.  A 
woman's  tongue  is  a  deadly  weapon  and  the  most 
difficult  thing  in  the  world  to  keep  in  order, 
and  things  slip  off  it  with  a  facility  nothing 
short  of  appalling  at  the  very  moment  when  it 
ought  to  be  most  quiet.  In  such  cases  the  only 
safe  course  is  to  talk  steadily  about  cooks  and 
children,  and  to  pray  that  the  visit  ma}^  not  be 


too  prolonged,  for  if  it  is  you  are  lost.  Cooks  I 
have  found  to  be  the  best  of  all  subjects— the 
most  phlegmatic  flush  into  life  at  the  mere  word, 
and  the  joys  and  sufferings  connected  with  them 
are  experiences  common  to  us  all. 

Luckily,  our  neighbor   and  his  wife  are  both 
.'^^   busy  and  charming,  with  a  whole  troop  of  flax- 
'S^^  ^n-haired  little  children  to  keep  them  occupied,     ^^ 
besides  the  business  of  their  large  estate.     Our     '^_ 
^,,.   intercourse   is   arranged   on   lines   of   the   most 
i:,    beautiful  simplicity.     1  call  on  her  once  a  year, 
^    and  she  returns  the  call  a  fortnight  later ;  thev 
1^    ask  us  to  dinner  in  the  summer,  and  we  ask  them 
J|    to  dinner  in  the  winter.     By  strictly  keeping  to 
?;/'    this,  we  avoid  all  dano:er  of  that  closer  friendship 
?|    which  is  only  another  name  for  frequent  quarrels. 
She  is  a  pattern  of  what  a  German  country  lady 
should  be,  and  is  not  only  a  pretty  woman,  but 
an  energetic  and  practical  one,  and  the  combina- 
tion is,  to  say  the  least,  effective.     She  is  up  at 
daylight  superintending  the  feeding  of  the  stock, 
the  butter-making,  the  sending  off  of  the  milk  for 
sale  ;  a  thousand  things   get   done   while    most 
people  are  fast  asleep,  and  before  lazy  folk  are 
well  at  breakfast  she  is  off  in  her  pony-carriage  to 


r/*. 


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Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


the  other  farms  on  the  place,  to  rate  the  "  mam- 
sells,"  as  the  head  women  are  called,  to  poke  into 
every  corner,  lift  the  lids  off  the  saucepans,  count 
the  new-laid  eggs,  and  box,  if  necessary,  any  care- 
less dairymaid's  ears.  "We  are  allowed  by  law  to 
administer  "  slight  corporal  punishment  "  to  our 
servants,  it  being  left  entirely  to  individual  taste 
to  decide  what  "  slight "  shall  be,  and  my  neigh- 
bor really  seems  to  enjoy  using  this  privilege, 
judging  from  the  way  she  talks  about  it.  I  would 
give  much  to  be  able  to  peep  through  a  keyhole 
and  see  the  dauntless  little  lady,  terrible  in  her 
wrath  and  dignity,  standing  on  tiptoe  to  box  the 
ears  of  some  great  strapping  girl  big  enough  to 
eat  her. 

The  making  of  cheese  and  butter  and  sausages 
excellently  well  is  a  work  which  requires  brains, 
and  is,  to  my  thinking,  a  very  admirable  form  of 
activity,  and  entirel}^  worthy  of  the  attention  of 
the  intelligent.  That  my  neighbor  is  intelligent 
is  at  once  made  evident  by  the  bright  alertness  of 
her  eyes — eyes  that  nothing  escapes,  and  that 
only  gain  in  prettiness  by  being  used  to  some 
good  purpose.  She  is  a  recognized  authority  for 
miles  around  on  the  mysteries  of  sausage- making, 


m\- 


^:f 


1' '  1 1 


V...V,,; 


KERE 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

the  care  of  calves,  and  the  slaughtering  of  swine  ; 
and  with  all  her  manifold  duties  and  daily  pro- 
longed absences  from  home,  her  children  are  pat- 
terns of  health  and  neatness,  and  of  what  dear  ^^x5^4?CMf,V/ ) 
little  German  children,  with  white  pioftails  and  ',i.\.^.;i-- 1'-'^"  ' 
fearless  eyes  and  thick  legs,  should  be.  'Who  '.^k^SpSrir;tJ, 
shall  say  that  such  a  life  is  sordid  and  dull  and  ^'^'^'■^-  "^  ' 
unworthy  of  a  high  order  of  intelligence  ?  I  pro- 
test that  to  me  it  is  a  beautiful  life,  full  of  whole- 
some outdoor  work,  and  with  no  room  for  those 
listless  moments  of  depression  and  boredom,  and 
of  wondering  what  you  will  do  next,  that  leave 
wrinkles  round  a  prett}^  woman's  eyes,  and  are 
not  unknown  even  to  the  most  brilliant.  But 
while  admiring  my  neighbor,  I  don't  think  I  shall 
ever  try  to  follow  in  her  steps,  my  talents  not 
being  of  the  energetic  and  organizing  variety,  but  ^^ipr^gBsr-gr'^ 
rather  of  that  order  which  makes  their  owner  tH^^Kv'^'!i^v/^ 
almost  lamentably  prone  to  take  up  a  volume  of  ,^^#^12 1^ '2 
poetry  and  wander  out  to  where  the  kingcups 
grow,  and.  sitting  on  a  willow  trunk  beside  a 
little  stream,  forget  the  very  existence  of  every- 
thing but  green  pastures  and  still  waters,  and  the 
glad  blowing  of  the  wind  across  the  joyous  fields. 
And  it  would  make  me  perfectly  wretched  to  be 


.ai 


m 


PARADISE 


W' 


^flr' 


confronted  by  ears  so  refractory   as  to  require    . 
boxing. 

Sometimes  callers  from  a  distance  invade  my 
solitude,  and  it  is  on  these  occasions  that  I  realize 
how  absolutely  alone  each  individual  is,  and  how  ^^r^i^ 
far  away  from  his  neighbor,  and  while  they  talk 
(generally  about  babies  past,  present,  and  to  j^f^ 
come),  I  fall  to  wondering  at  the  vast  and  im-  ~^^^fe 
passible  distance  that  separates  one's  own  soul 
from  the  soul  of  the  person  sitting  in  the  next 
chair.  I  am  speaking  of  comparative  strangers, 
people  who  are  forced  to  stay  a  certain  time  by 
the  eccentricities  of  trains,  and  in  whose  presence 
you  grope  about  after  common  interests  and 
shrink  back  into  your  shell  on  finding  that  you 
have  none.  Then  a  frost  slowly  settles  down  on 
me  and  I  grow  each  minute  more  benumbed  and 
speechless,  and  the  babies  feel  the  frost  in  the  air 
and  look  vacant,  and  the  callers  go  through  the 
usual  form  of  wondering  who  they  most  take 
after,  generally  settling  the  question  by  saying 
that  the  May  baby,  who  is  the  beauty,  is  like  her 
father,  and  that  the  two  more  or  less  plain  ones 
are  the  image  of  me,  and  this  decision,  though  I 
know  it  of  old  and  am  sure  it  is  coming,  never  fails 


Elizabeth  and  He 


~  ;J:\ 

^J     to  depress  me  as  much  as  though  I  hear 
^/2^     the  first  time.     The  babies  are  very  little  and  in- 
^•iLif/    offensive  and  good,  aad  it  is  hard  that  thev  should 
.  r^     be  used  as  a  means  of  filling  up  gaps  in  conver- 
/\|    sation,  and  their  features  pulled  to  pieces  one  by   ^1\ 
\J/       one,  and  all  their  weak  points  noted  and  criticised, 
while  they  stand  smiling  shyly  in  the  operator's 
face,  their  very  smile  drawing  forth  comments  on 
(^^    the  shape  of  their  mouths  ;  but,  after  all,  it  does 
(_,    not  occur  very  often,  and  they  are  one  of  those 
few  interests   one   has   in  common  with   other  ^ 
people,  as  everybody  seems  to  have   babies.     A   j 
garden,  I  have  discovered,  is  by  no  means  a  fruit- 
A    ful   topic,  and   it  is   amazing   how   few  persons 
^      really  love  theirs— they  all  pretend  they  do,  but 
you  can  hear  by  the  very  tone  of  their  voice  what 
a  lukewarm  affection  it  is.     About  June  their  in- 
terest is  at  its  warmest,  nourished  by  agreeable 
supplies  of  strawberries  and  roses,  but  on  reflec- 
tion I  don't  know  a  single  person  within  twenty 
miles  who  really  cares  for  his  garden,  or  has  dis- 
(C     covered  the  treasures  of  happiness  that  are  buried 
in  it,  and  are  to  be  found  if  sought  for  diligently 
and,  if  needs  be,  with  tears. 

It  is  after  these  rare  calls  that  I  experience  the 


\ 


^•y^, 


Her  German  Garden. 


only  moments  of  depression  from  which  I  ever 
suffer,  and  then  I  am  angry  at  myself,  a  well- 
nourished  person,  for  allowing  even  a  single  pre- 
XT^^kfi    cious  hour  of  life  to  be  spoiled  by  anything  so 
indifferent.     That  is  the  worst  of  being  fed  enough 
and  clothed  enough  and  warmed  enough  and  of 
having  everything  you  can  reasonably  desire— 
yi  on  the  least  provocation  you  are  made  uncomfort- 
fl  ' li^   able  and  unhappy  by  such  abstract  discomforts 
/  1^'  as  being  shut  out  from  a  nearer  approach  to  your 

^^  ^    neighbor's  soul ;  which  is  on  the  face  of  it  foolish, 
^^^^    the  probability  being  that  he  hasn't  got  one. 

The  rockets  are  all  out.  The  gardener  in  a  fit 
of  inspiration  put  them  right  along  the  very  front 
of  two  borders,  and  I  don't  know  what  his  feel- 
ings can  be  now  that  they  are  all  flowering  and 
the  plants  behind  are  completely  hidden ;  but  I 
have  learned  another  lesson,  and  no  future  gar- 
dener shall  be  allowed  to  run  riot  among  my 
rockets  in  quite  so  reckless  a  fashion.     They  are 


m. 


\|1/ 


charming  things  as  delicate  in  color  as  in  scent,    |%  ^, 


"     -e 


^ 


and  a  bowl  of  them  on  my  writing-table  fills  the 
room  with  fragrance.  Single  rows,  however,  are 
a  mistake  ;  I  bad  masses  of  them  planted  in  the 
grass,  and  these  show  how  lovely  they  can  be. 

/    - 


ft^ 


i:       iiT 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

A  border  full  of  rockets,  mauve  and  white,  and 
nothing  else,  must  be  beautiful ;  but  I  don't  know 
how  long  they  last  nor  what  they  look  like  when 
they  have  done  flowering.  This  I  shall  find  out 
in  a  week  or  two,  I  suppose.  AVas  ever  a  would- 
be  ofardener  left  so  entirelv  to  his  own  blunder- 
ings  ?  Xo  doubt  it  would  be  a  gain  of  years  to 
the  garden  if  I  were  not  forced  to  learn  solely  by 
my  failures,  and  if  I  had  some  kind  creature  to 
tell  me  when  to  do  things.  At  present  the  only 
flowers  in  the  garden  are  the  rockets,  the  pansies 
in  the  rose  beds,  and  two  groups  of  azaleas — 
mollis  and  pontica.  The  azaleas  have  been  and 
still  are  gorgeous ;  I  only  planted  them  this 
spring,  and  they  almost  at  once  began  to  flower, 
and  the  sheltered  corner  they  are  in  looks  as  though 
it  were  filled  with  imprisoned  and  perpetual  sun- 
sets. Orange,  lemon,  pink  in  every  delicate  shade 
— what  they  will  be  next  year  and  in  succeeding 
years,  when  the  bushes  are  bigger,  I  can  imagine 
from  the  way  they  have  begun  life.  On  gray, 
dull  days  the  effect  is  absolutely  startling.  Xext 
autumn  I  shall  make  a  great  bank  of  them  in 
front  of  a  belt  of  fir  trees  in  rather  a  gloomy 
nook.     Mv  tea-roses  are  covered  with  buds  which 


.:-:^^/ 


^^ 


./-^^^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

will  not  open  for  at  least  another  week,  so  I  con- 
clude this  is  not  the  sort  of  climate  where  they 
will  flower  from  the  very  beginning  of  June  to 
November,  as  they  are  said  to  do. 

July  11. — There  has  been  no  rain  since  the  day 
before  Whitsunday,  five  weeks  ago,  which  partly, 
but  not  entirely,  accounts  for  the  disappointment 
my  beds  have  been.  The  dejected  gardener  went 
mad  soon  after  Whitsuntide  and  had  to  be  sent 
to  an  asylum.  He  took  to  going  about  with  a 
spade  in  one  hand  and  a  revolver  in  the  other, 
explaining  that  he  felt  safer  that  way,  and  we 
bore  it  quite  patiently,  as  becomes  civilized  beings 
who  respect  each  other's  prejudices,  until  one 
day,  when  I  mildly  asked  him  to  tie  up  a  fallen 
creeper — and  after  he  bought  the  revolver  my 
tones  in  addressing  him  were  of  the  mildest,  and 
I  quite  left  off  reading  to  him  aloud — he  turned 
around,  looked  me  straight  in  the  face  for  the 
first  time  since  he  has  been  here,  and  said,  "  Do 

I  look  like  Graf  X [a  great  local  celebrity], 

or  like  a  monkey  ?  "  After  which  there  was 
nothing  for  it  but  to  get  him  into  an  asylum  as 
expeditiously  as  possible.   There  was  no  gardener 


'-'^■:.' 


^ 


m 


-^^<_j 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


to  be  had  in  his  place,  and  I  have  only  just  suc- 
ceeding in  getting  one  ;  so  that  what  with  the 
drought,  and  the  neglect,  and  the  gardener's  mad- 
ness, and  my  blunders,  the  garden  is  in  a  sad  con- 
dition ;  but  even  in  its  sad  condition  it  is  the  dearest 
place  in  the  world,  and  all  my  mistakes  only  make 
me  more  determined  to  persevere. 

The  long  borders,  where  the  rockets  were,  are 
looking  dreadful.  The  rockets  have  done  flow- 
ering, and  after  the  manner  of  rockets,  in  other 
walks  of  life,  have  degenerated  in  sticks  ;  and 
nothing  else  in  those  borders  intends  to  bloom 
this  summer.  The  giant  poppies  I  had  planted 
out  in  them  in  April  have  either  died  off  or  re- 
mained quite  small,  and  so  have  the  columbines  ; 
here  and  there  a  delphinium  droops  unwillingly, 
and  that  is  all.  I  suppose  poppies  cannot  stand 
being  moved,  or  perhaps  they  were  not  watered 
enough  at  the  time  of  transplanting  ;  anyhow, 
those  borders  are  going  to  be  sown  to-morrow 
with  more  poppies  for  next  year  ;  for  poppies  I 
will  have  whether  they  like  it  or  not,  and  they 
shall  not  be  touched,  only  thinned  out. 

"Well,  it  is  no  use  being  grieved,  and,  after  all, 
directly  I  come  out  and  sit  under  the  trees,  and 


.-,'»-. 
^■m-. 


\: 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

look  at  the  dappled  sky,  and  see  the  sunshine  on 
the  cornfields  away  on  the  plain,  all  the  disap- 
pointment smooths  itself  out,  and  it  seems  im- 
possible to  be  sad  and  discontented  when  every- 
thing about  me  is  so  radiant  and  kind. 

To-day  is  Sunday,  and  the  garden  is  so  quiet 
that,  sitting  here  in  this  shady  corner  watching 
the  lazy  shadows  stretching  themselves  across  the 
grass,  and  listening  to  the  rooks  quarreling  in  the 
treetops,  I  almost  expect  to  hear  English  church 
bells  ringing  for  the  afternoon  service.  But  the 
church  is  three  miles  off,  has  no  bells,  and  no  after- 
noon service.  Once  a  fortnight  we  go  to  morn- 
ing prayer  at  eleven  and  sit  up  in  a  sort  of  private 
box  with  a  room  behind,  whither  we  can  retire 
unobserved  when  the  sermon  is  too  long-  or  our 
flesh  too  weak,  and  hear  ourselves  being  prayed 
for  by  the  black-robed  parson.  In  winter  the 
church  is  bitterly  cold ;  it  is  not  heated,  and  we 
sit  muffled  up  in  more  furs  than  ever  we  wear  out 
of  doors ;  but  it  would  of  course  be  very  wicked 
for  the  parson  to  wear  furs,  however  cold  he  may 
be,  so  he  puts  on  a  great  many  extra  coats  under 
his  gown,  and,  as  the  winter  progresses,  swells  to 
a    prodigious  size.     We   know   when   spring    is 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden 


wmi^^:^^ 


m 


ml 


m 


coming  by  the  reduction  in  his  figure.  The  con- 
gregation sit  at  ease  while  the  parson  does  the 
praying  for  them,  and  while  they  are  droning  the 
long-drawn-out  chorales  he  retires  into  a  little 
wooden  box  just  big  enough  to  hold  hira.  He 
does  not  come  out  until  he  thinks  we  have  sung 
enough,  nor  do  we  stop  until  his  appearance  gives 
us  the  signal.  I  have  often  thought  how  dread- 
ful it  would  be  if  he  fell  ill  in  his  box  and  left  us 
to  go  on  singing.  I  am  sure  we  should  never 
dare  to  stop,  unauthorized  by  the  Church.  I 
asked  him  once  what  he  did  in  there  ;  he  looked  ^»^^<^f?^, 
very  shocked  at  such  a  profane  question,  and 
made  an  evasive  reply. 

If  it  were  not  for  the  garden,  a  German,  Sun- 
day would  be  a  terrible  day ;  but  in  the  garden  ^'i.^'M-M'' 


=3fe  on  that  day  there  is  a  sio^h  of  relief  and  more  ^Sj 


w 


'//■ 


^^J 


.^ 


s^^^ 


m 


^ERL 


profound  peace,  nobody  raking  or  sweeping  or  1, 
fidgeting  ;  only  the  little  flowers  themselves  and  •. 
the  whispering  trees.  % 

I  have  been  much  afflicted  again  lately  by  vis- 
itors— not  stray  callers  to  be  got  rid  of  after  a 
due  administration  of  tea  and  things  you  are  sorry 
afterward  that  you  said,  but  people  staying  in  the 
house  and  not  to  be  £:ot  rid  of  at  all. 


w 


f4- 


^ 


PARADISE 


iii;< 


K 


was  lost  to  me  in  this  way,  and  it  was  from  first 
to  last  a  radiant  month  of  heat  and  beauty  ;  but  a 
garden  where  you  meet  the  people  you  saw  at 
breakfast,  and  will  see  again  at  lunch  and  dinner, 
is  not  a  place  to  be  happy  in.  Besides,  they  had 
a  knack  of  finding  out  my  favorite  seats  and 
lounging  in  them  just  when  I  longed  to  lounge 
myself ;  and  they  took  books  out  of  the  library 
with  them,  and  left  them  face  downward  on  the 
seats  all  night  to  get  well  drenched  with  dew, 
though  they  might  have  known  that  what  is  meat 
for  roses  is  poison  for  books ;  and  they  gave  me 
to  understand  that  if  they  had  had  the  arranging 
of  the  garden  it  would  have  been  finished  long 
ago— whereas  I  don't  believe  a  garden  ever  is 
finished.  They  have  all  gone  now,  thank  Heaven, 
except  one,  so  that  I  have  a  little  breathing  space 
before  others  begin  to  arrive.  It  seems  that  the 
place  interests  people,  and  that  there  is  a  sort  of 
novelty  in  staying  in  such  a  deserted  corner  of  the 
world,  for  they  were  in  a  perpetual  state  of  mild 
amusement  at  being  here  at  all. 

Irais  is  the  only  one  left.  She  is  a  young 
woman  with  a  beautiful,  refined  face,  and  her 
eyes  and  straight,  fine  eyebrows  are  particularly 


V  "^ 


^ 


<C 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Gard-n. 

lovable.  At  meals  she  dips  her  bread  into  the 
salt-cellar,  bites  a  bit  off,  and  repeats  the  process, 
although  providence  (taking  my  shape)  has  caused 
salt-spoons  to  be  placed  at  convenient  intervals 
down  the  table.  She  lunched  to-day  on  beer, 
Schweinekoteletten^  and  cabbage-salad  with  cara- 
way seeds  in  it,  and  now  I  hear  her  through  the 
open  window,  extemporizing  touching  melodies 
in  her  charming  cooing  voice.  She  is  thin,  frail, 
intelligent,  and  lovable,  all  on  the  above  diet. 
What  better  proof  can  be  needed  to  establish  the 
superiority  of  the  Teuton  than  the  fact  that  after 
such  meals  he  can  produce  such  music  ?  Cabbage- 
salad  is  a  horrid  invention,  but  I  don't  doubt  its 
utility  as  means  of  encouraging  though tfulness ; 
nor  will  I  quarrel  with  it,  since  it  results  so 
poetically,  any  more  than  I  quarrel  with  the 
manure  that  results  in  roses,  and  I  give  it  to  Irais 
every  day  to  make  her  sing.  She  is  the  sweetest 
singer  I  have  ever  heard,  and  has  a  charming 
trick  of  making  up  songs  as  she  goes  along. 
When  she  begins  I  go  and  lean  out  of  the 
window  and  look  at  my  little  friends  out  there 
in  the  borders  while  listening  to  her  music,  and 
feel  full  of  pleasant  sadness  and  regret.     It  is  so 


W 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

sweet  to  be  sad  when  one  has  nothing  to  be  sad 
about. 

The  April  baby  came  panting  up  just  as  I 
had  written  that,  the  others  hurrying  along  be- 
hind, and  with  flaming  cheeks  displayed  for  my 
admiration  three  brand-new  kittens,  lean  and 
blind,  that  she  was  carrying  in  her  pinafore,  and 
\^  that  had  just  been  found  motherless  in  the  wood- 
shed. 

"  Look,"  she  cried  breathlessly,  "  such  a  much !" 

I  was  glad  it  was  only  kittens  this  time,  for  she 
had  been  once  before  this  afternoon  on  purpose, 
as  she  informed  me,  sitting  herself  down  on  the 
grass  at  my  feet,  to  ask  about  the  lleher  Gott,  it 
being  Sunday  and  her  pious  little  nurse's  conver- 
sation having  run,  as  it  seems,  on  heaven  and 
angels. 

Her  questions  about  the  lieher  Gott  are  better 
left  unrecorded,  and  I  was  relieved  when  she 
began  about  the  angels. 

"  What  do  they  wear  for  clothes  ? "  she  asked  in 
her  German-English. 

"  "Why,  you've  seen  them  in  pictures,"  I  an- 
swered, "  in  beautiful,  long  dresses,  and  with  big, 
white  wings." 


i 


i:--'-l 


m 


^ 


i 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

"  Feathers  ? "  she  asked. 

"  I  suppose  so — and  long  dresses,  all  white  and 
beautiful." 

"  Are  they  girlies  ?  " 

"Girls?    Ye— es." 

"  Don't  boys  go  into  the  Himmel  f  " 

"  Yes,  of  course,  if  they're  good." 

"  And  then  what  do  they  wear  ? " 

"  Why,  the  same  as  all  the  other  angels,  I  sup- 
pose.'' 

''Dwessesf' 

She  began  to  laugh,  looking  at  me  sideways 
as  though  she  suspected  me  of  making  jokes. 
"  What  a  funny  Mummy !  "  she  said,  evidently 
much  amused.  She  has  a  fat  little  laugh  that  is 
very  infectious. 

•'  I  think,"  said  I  gravely,  "  you  had  better  go 
and  play  with  the  other  babies." 

She  did  not  answer,  and  sat  still  a  moment 
watching  the  clouds.     I  began  writing  again. 

"  Mummy,"  she  said  presently. 

"  Well 
Where  do  the  angels  get  their  dwesses 
'  I  hesitated.     "  From  luler  Gottr  I  said. 
•  Are  there  shops  in  the  Himmel  f  " 


^      I 


'iV 


?^rvg 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

"Shops?    No.'' 

"But,  then,  were  does  tieher  Gott  buy  their 
dwesses  ? " 

"  Now  run  away  like  a  good  baby  ;  I'm  busy." 

"  But  you  said  yesterday,  when  I  asked  about 
lieber  Gott,  that  you  would  tell  about  Him  on 
Sunday,  and  it  is  Sunday.  Tell  me  a  story  about 
Him." 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  resignation,  so 
I  put  down  my  pencil  with  a  sigh.  "  Call  the 
others,  then." 

She  ran  away,  and  presently  they  all  three 
emerged  from  the  bushes  one  after  the  other, 
and  tried  all  together  to  scramble  on  to  my 
knee.  The  April  babj^  got  the  knee  as  she  al- 
ways seems  to  get  everything,  and  the  other  two 
had  to  sit  on  the  grass. 

I  began  about  Adam  and  Eve,  with  an  eye 
to  future  parsonic  probings.  The  April  baby's 
eyes  opened  wider  and  wider,  and  her  face  grew 
redder  and  redder.  I  was  surprised  at  the 
breathless  interest  she  took  in  the  story — the 
other  two  were  tearing  up  tufts  of  grass  and 
hardly  listening.  I  had  scarcely  got  to  the  angels 
with  the  flaming  swords  and  announced  that  that 


t^^^ 

^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


was  all,  when  she  burst  out,  "  Now  Fll  tell  about 
it.  Once  upon  a  time  there  was  Adam  and  Eve, 
and  they  \i2.d.plenty  of  clothes,  and  there  was  no 
snake,  and  lieher  Gott  was7iH  angry  with  them, 
and  they  could  eat  as  many  apples  as  they  liked, 
and  was  happy  forever  and  ever— ^A^?'^  now  ! '' 
She  began  to  jump  up  and  down  defiantly  on 

my  knee. 

"  But  that's  not  the  story,"  I  said  rather  help- 
lessly. 

"  Yes,  yes!     It's  a  much  nicelier  one  !     Kow 

another." 

"  But  these  stories  are  true,''  I  said  severely, 
"  and  it's  no  use  my  telliug  them  if  you  make 
them  up  your  own  way  afterward." 

"  Another !  another  !  "  she  shrieked,  jumping 
up  and  down  with  redoubled  energy,  aU  her 
silvery  curls  flying. 

I  began  about  Koah  and  the  Flood. 

"  Did  it  rain  so  badly?  "  she  asked  ^ith  a  face 
of  the  deepest  concern  and  interest. 

"  Yes,    aU   day  long  and  all  night   long  for 
■    weeks  and  weeks " 


'  l~^ 


"  And  was  everybody  so  wet  ? " 


"  Yes- 


i^ 


Ki 


^£^^ 


.4^ 


hJE 


W 


■n 


'1^ 


m 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

"  But  why  didn't  they  open  their  umbwel- 
las?" 

Just  then  I  saw  the  nurse  coming  out  with  the 
tea-tray. 

"  I'll  tell  you  the  rest  another  time,"  I  said, 
putting  her  off  my  knee,  greatly  relieved  ;  "  you 
must  all  go  to  Anna  now  and  have  tea." 

"  I  don't  like  Anna,"  remarked  the  June  baby, 
not  having  hitherto  opened  her  lips  ;  "  she  is  a 
stupid  girl." 

The  other  two  stood  transfixed  with  horror  at 
this  statement,  for,  besides  being  naturally  ex- 
tremely polite,  and  at  all  times  anxious  not  to 
hurt  any  one's  feelings,  they  have  been  brought  up 
to  love  and  respect  their  kind  little  nurse. 

The  April  baby  recovered  her  speech  first, 
and  lifting  her  finger  pointed  it  at  the  criminal 
in  just  indignation.  "  Such  a  child  will  never  go 
into  the  Himmel^^  she  said  with  great  emphasis, 
and  the  air  of  one  who  delivers  judgment. 

September  15. — This  is  the  month  of  quiet 
days,  crimson  creepers,  and  blackberries  ;  of  mel- 
low afternoons  in  the  ripening  garden  ;  of  tea  un- 
der the  acacias  instead  of  the  too  shady  beeches ; 


t^-'' 


S 


M. 


I 

Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

of  wood-lire  in  the  library  in  the  chilly  evenings. 
The  babies  go  out  in  the  afternoon  and  black- 
berry in  the  hedges ;  the  three  kittens,  grown  big 
and  fat,  sit  cleaning  themselves  on  the  sunny 
veranda  steps  ;  the  Man  of  Wrath  shoots  par- 
tridges across  the  distant  stubble ;  and  the  summer 
seems  as  though  it  would  dream  on  forever.  It 
is  hard  to  believe  that  in  three  months  we  shall 
probably  be  snowed  up  and  certainly  be  cold. 
There  is  a  feeling  about  this  month  that  reminds 
me  of  March  and  the  early  days  of  April,  when 
spring  is  still  hesitating  on  the  threshold  and  the 
garden  holds  its  breath  in  expectation.  There  is 
the  same  mildness  in  the  air,  and  the  sky  and 
grass  have  the  same  look  as  then  ;  but  the  leaves 
tell  a  different  tale,  and  the  reddening  creeper  on 
the  house  is  rapidly  approaching  its  last  and 
loveliest  glory. 

My  roses  have  behaved  as  well  on  the  whole  as 
was  to  be  expected,  and  the  Viscountess  Folke- 
stones  and  Laurette  Messimys  have  been  most 
beautiful,  the  latter  being  quite  the  loveliest  things 
in  the  garden,  each  flower  an  exquisite  loose 
cluster  of  coral-pink  petals  paling  at  the  base  to  a 
yellow-white.     I  have  ordered  a  hundred  stand- 


? 


^\ 


ard  teas  for  planting  next  month,  half  of  which 
are  Viscountess  Folkestones,  because  the  teas  have 
such  a  way  of  hanging  their  little  heads  that  one 
has  to  kneel  down  to  be  able  to  see  them  well  in 
the  dwarf  forms — not  but  what  I  entirely  approve 
of  kneeling  before  such  perfect  beauty,  only  it 
dirties  one's  clothes.  So  I  am  going  to  put  stand- 
ards down  each  side  of  the  walk  under  the  south 
windows,  and  shall  have  the  flowers  on  a  con- 
venient level  for  worship.  '^Ly  only  fear  is  that 
they  will  stand  the  winter  less  well  than  the 
dwarf  sorts,  being  so  difficult  to  pack  up  snugly. 
The  Persian  Yellows  and  Bicolors  have  been,  as 
I  predicted,  a  mistake  among  the  teas  ;  they  only 
flower  twice  in  the  season,  and  all  the  rest  of  the 
time  look  dull  and  moping  ;  and  then  the  Persian 
Yellows  have  such  an  odd  smell  and  so  many  in- 
sects inside  them  eating  them  up.  I  have  ordered 
Safrano  tea-roses  to  put  in  their  place,  as  they  all 
come  out  next  month  and  are  to  be  grouped  in 
the  grass  ;  and  the  semicircle  being  immediately 
under  the  windows,  besides  having  the  best  posi- 
tion in  the  place,  must  be  reserved  solely  for  my 
choicest  treasures.  I  have  had  a  great  many  dis- 
appointments, but  feel  as  though  I  were   really 


^' 


i.1 


vv 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


^; 


beginning  to  learn.    Humility  and  the  most  patient 
perseverance  seem  almost  as  necessary  in  garden-    ^^'^^M^^yA 
ingas  rain  and  sunshine,  and  every  failure  must    -^^-j-^ZJ^ 
be  used  as  a  stepping-stone  to  something  better. 
I  had  a  visitor  last  week  who  knows  a  great 
deal  about  gardening  and  has  had  much  practical 
experience.     When  I  heard  he  was  coming  I  felt 
I  wanted  to  put  my  arms  right  around  my  garden 
and  hide  it  from  him  :  but  what  was  my  surprise 
and  delight  when  he  said,  after  having  gone  all  ^^ 
over  it,  "  Well,  I  think  you  have  done  wonders. 
Dear  me,  how  pleased  I  was  !     It  was  so  entirely 
unexpected,  and  such  a  complete  novelty  after  the 
A    remarks  I  have  been  listening  to  all  the  summer. 
^      I  could  have  hugged  that  discerning  and  indul- 
gent critic,  able  to  look  beyond  the  result  to  the 

Ji  C     intention,  and  appreciating  the  difficulties  of  every 
kind  that  had  been  in  the  way.     After  that  I 

^   opened  my  heart  to  him,  and  listened  reverently 

to  all  he  had  to  say,  and  treasured  up  his  kind 
and  encouraging  advice,  and  wished  he  could  stay 
here  a  whole  year  and  help  me  through  the  sea- 
sons. But  he  went,  as  people  one  likes  always 
do  go,  and  he  was  the  only  guest  I  have  had 
whose  departure  made  me  sorry. 


<c 


,^ 


1^ 


The  people  I  love  are  always  somewhere  else 
and  not  able  to  come  to  me,  while  I  can  at  any 
time  fill  the  house  with  visitors  about  whom  I 
know  little  and  care  less.  Perhaps  if  I  saw  more 
of  those  absent  ones  I  would  not  love  them  so 
well — at  least,  that  is  what  I  think  on  wet  days 
when  the  wind  is  howling  round  the  house  and 
all  nature  is  overcome  with  grief ;  and  it  has 
actually  happened  once  or  twice  when  great 
friends  have  been  staying  with  me  that  I  have 
wished,  when  they  left,  I  might  not  see  them 
again  for  at  least  ten  years.  I  suppose  the  fact 
is  that  no  friendship  can  stand  the  breakfast 
test,  and  here,  in  the  country,  we  invariably  think 
it  our  duty  to  appear  at  breakfast.  Civilization 
has  done  away  with  curl-papers,  yet  at  that  hour 
the  soul  of  the  Ilausfrau  is  as  tightly  screwed 
up  in  them  as  was  ever  her  grandmother's  hair : 
and  though  my  body  comes  down  mechanically, 
having  been  trained  that  way  by  punctual  parents, 
my  soul  never  thinks  of  beginning  to  wake  up  for 
other  people  till  lunch-time,  and  never  does  so 
completely  till  it  has  been  taken  out  of  doors  and 
aired  in  the  sunshine.  Who  can  begin  conven- 
tional amiability  the  first  thing  in  the  morning  ? 


O) 


'^^^ 


^^'^-yy^^^P^^^^w 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


i. 


It  is  the  hour  of  savage  instincts  and  natural 
tendencies ;  it  is  the  triumph  of  the  Disagreeable 
and  the  Cross.  I  am  convinced  that  the  Muses 
and  the  Graces  never  thought  of  having  break- 
fast anv where  but  in  bed. 


jS^ove77iher  10. — Last  night  we  had  ten  degrees 
of  frost  (Fahrenheit),  and  1  went  out  the  first 
thing  this  morning  to  see  what  had  become  of 
the  tea-roses,  and  behold,  they  were  wide  awake 
and  quite  cheerful — covered  with  rime,  it  is  true, 
but  anything  but  black  and  shriveled.  Even 
those  in  boxes  on  each  side  of  the  veranda 
steps  were  perfectly  alive  and  full  of  buds,  and 
one  in  particular,  a  Bouquet  d'Or,  is  a  mass  of 
buds  and  would  flower  if  it  could  get  the  least  ^; 
encouragement.  I  am  beginning  to  think  that 
the  tenderness  of  teas  is  much  exaggerated,  and 
am  certainly  very  glad  I  had  the  courage  to  try 
them  in  this  northern  garden.  But  I  must  not 
fly  too  boldly  in  the  face  of  Providence,  and  have 
ordered  those  in  the  boxes  to  be  taken  into  the 
greenhouse  for  the  winter,  and  hope  the  Bouquet 
d'Or,  in  a  sunny  place  near  the  glass,  may  be 
induced  to  open  some  of  those  buds.     The  green- 


v;-pi^ 


^*.  \'.-.-.:-.::.n.^  • 


^■■'f 
1^^ 


f^^::^:#^^" 

■—.v.*  •-.    v=- 

.'^:^>STr'   :  -v^'^,  ^y^S 

^k4^M^ 

>:  •-  Y!  ••..•  -V.- 

'^•r.':?  ■ 

^ 

--.-  :<{.  •■».' 

«&i: 

W'^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


house  is  only  used  as  a  refuge,  and  kept  at  a  tem- 
perature just  above  freezing,  and  is  reserved  en- 
tirely for  such  plants  as  cannot  stand  the  very 
coldest  part  of  the  \Yinter  out  of  doors.  I  don't 
use  it  for  growing  anything,  because  I  don't  love 
things  that  will  only  bear  the  garden  for  three 
or  four  months  in  the  year  and  require  coaxing  and 
petting  for  the  rest  of  it.  Give  me  a  garden  full 
of  strong,  healthy  creatures,  able  to  stand  rough- 
ness and  cold  without  dismally  giving  in  and 
dying.  I  never  could  see  that  delicacy  of  con- 
stitution is  pretty,  either  in  plants  or  women. 
Ko  doubt  there  are  many  lovely  flowers  to  be 
had  by  heat  and  constant  coaxing,  but  then  for 
each  of  these  there  are  fifty  others  still  lovelier 
that  will  gratefully  grow  in  God's  wholesome  air 


m 


W^0^!K  and  are  blessed  in  return  with  a  far  greater 
j^§f>.ii.:^  intensity  of  scent  and  color. 
•■•'■•:•:..  -y^Q  have  been  very  busy  till  now  getting  the 
permanent  beds  into  order  and  planting  the  new 
tea-roses,  and  I  am  looking  forward  to  next  sum- 
mer with  more  hope  than  ever  in  spite  of  my 
many  failures.  I  wish  the  years  would  pass 
quickly  that  wull  bring  my  garden  to  perfection ! 
The  Persian  Yellows  have  gone  into  their  new 

'f  _ 

r' 


M 


m 


.3 


.} 


^■'fS. 


1 


V 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


quarters,  and  their  place  is  occupied  by  the  tea- 
rose  Safrano ;  all  the  rose  beds  are  carpeted  with 
pansies  sown  in  July  and  transplanted  in  October, 
each  bed  having  a  separate  color.  The  pui^ple 
ones  are  the  most  charming  and  go  well  with 
every  rose,  but  I  have  white  ones  with  Laurette 
Messimy,  and  yellow  ones  with  Safrano,  and  a 
new  red  sort  in  the  big  center  bed  of  red  roses. 
Kound  the  semicircle  on  the  south  side  of  the 
little  privet  hedge  two  rows  of  annual  larkspurs 
in  all  their  delicate  shades  have  been  sown,  and 
just  beyond  the  larkspurs,  on  the  grass,  is  a  semi- 
circle of  standard  tea  and  pillar  roses.  In  front 
of  the  house  the  long  borders  have  been  stocked 
with  larkspurs,  annual  and  perennial,  columbines, 
giant  poppies,  pinks.  Madonna  lilies,  wall  flowers, 
hollyhocks,  perennial  phloxes,  peonies,  lavender, 
star  worts,  cornflowers,  Lychnis  chalcedonica,  and 
bulbs  packed  in  wherever  bulbs  could  go.  These 
are  the  borders  that  were  so  hardly  used  by  the 
other  gardener.  The  spring  boxes  for  the  veranda 
steps  have  been  filled  with  pink  and  white  and 
yellow  tulips.  I  love  tulips  better  than  any  other 
spring  flower  ;  they  are  the  embodiment  of  alert 
cheerfulness  and  tidy  grace,  and  next  to  a  hyacinth 


^ri.,^' 


c<*> 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

look  like  a  wholesome,  freshly  tubbed  young  girl 
beside  a  stout  lady  whose  every  movement  weighs 
down  the  air  with  patchouli.     Their  faint,  delicate 
scent  is  refinement  itself ;  and  is  there  anything 
in  the  world  more  charming  than  the  sprightly 
way  they  hold  up  their  little  faces  to  the  sun  ?     I 
have  heard  them  called  bold  and  flaunting,  but  to 
me  they  seem  modest  grace  itself,  only  always  on 
the  alert  to  enjoy  life  as  much  as  they  can  and 
not  afraid  of  looking  the  sun  or  anything  else 
above  them  in  the  face.     On  the  grass  there  are 
two  beds  of  them  carpeted  with  forget-me-nots  ; 
and  in  the  grass,  in  scattered  groups,  are  daffodils 
and  narcissus.     Down  the  wilder  shrubbery  walks 
foxgloves  and  mulleins  will  (I  hope)  shine  majes- 
tic ;  and  one  cool  corner,  backed  by  a  group  of 
firs,  is  graced  by  Madonna  lilies,  white  foxgloves 
and  columbines.     In  a  distant  glade  I  have  made  a 
spring  garden  round  an  oak  tree  that  stands  alone 
in  the  sun — groups  of  crocuses,  daffodils,  narcissus, 
hyacinths,  and  tulips,  among  such  flowering  shrubs 
and  trees  as  Pirus  Malus  spectabilis,  floribunda, 
and  coronaria ;  Prunus  Juliana,  Mahaleb,  serotina, 
triloba,  and  Pissardi ;  Cydonias  and  Weigelias  in 
every  color,  and  several  kinds  of  Crataegus  and 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

other  May  loveliness.     If  the  weather  behaves  it- 
self nicely,  and  we  get  gentle  rains  in  due  season, 
I  think  this  little  corner  will  be  beautiful— but 
what   a  big"  if "  it  is!     Drought  is   our   great 
enemy,  and  the  two  last  summers  each  contained 
five  weeks  of  blazing,  cloudless  heat  when  all  the 
ditches  dried  up  and  the  soil  was  like  hot  pastry. 
At  such  times  the  watering  is  naturally  quite  be- 
yond the  strength  of  two  men  ;  but  as  a  garden 
is  a  place  to  be  happy  in,  and  not  one  where  you 
want  to  meet  a  dozen  curious  eyes  at  every  turn, 
I  should  not  like  to  have  more  than  these  two,  or 
rather  one  and  a  half— the  assistant  having  stork- 
like proclivities  and  going  home  in  the  autumn  to 
his  native  Eussia,  returning  in  the  spring  with  the 
first  warm  winds.     I  want  to  keep  him  over  the 
winter,  as  there  is  much  to  be  done  even  then,  and 
I  sounded  him  on  the  point  the  other  day.     He  is 
the  most  abject-looking  of  human  beings— lame, 
and  afflicted  with  a  hideous  eye-disease ;  but  he 
is  a  good  worker  and  plods  along  unwearyingly 
from  sunrise  to  dusk. 

''  Pray,  my  good   stork,"  said   I,  or   German 
words  to  that  effect,  "  why  don't  you  stay  here 


T^L^ 


^^i 


>1^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


altogether,  instead  of  going  home  and  rioting 
away  all  you  have  earned  'i " 

"  I  would  stay,"  he  answered,  "  but  I  have  my 
wife  there  in  Russia." 

"  Your  wife  !  "  I  exclaimed,  stupidly  surprised 
that  the  poor  deformed  creature  should  have 
found  a  mate — as  though  there  were  not  a  su- 
perfluity of  mates  in  the  world — "  I  didn't  know 
you  were  married  ? " 

"Yes,  and  I  have  two  little  children,  and  I 
don't  know  what  they  would  do  if  I  w^ere  not  to 
come  home.  But  it  is  a  very  expensive  journey 
to  Russia,  and  costs  me  every  time  seven 
marks." 

'^  Seven  marks  !  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  great  sum." 

I  wondered  whether  I  should  be  able  to  get 
to  Russia  for  seven  marks,  supposing  I  were 
to  be  seized  with  an  unnatural  craving  to  go 
there. 

All  the  laborers  who  work  here  from  March 
to  December  are  Russians  and  Poles,  or  a  mix- 
ture of  both.  We  send  a  man  over  who  can 
speak  their  language  to  fetch  as  many  as  he  can 
early  in  the  year,   and   they  arrive  with  their 


^M 


\\i 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

bundles,  men  and  women  and  babies,  and  as  soon 
as  they  have  got  here  and  had  their  fares  paid 
they  disappear  in  the  night  if  they  get  the  chance, 
sometimes  fifty  of  them  at  a  time,  to  go  and 
work  singly  or  in  couples  for  the  peasants,  who 
pay  them  a  pfennig  or  two  more  a  day  than  we 
do,  and  let  them  eat  with  the  family.  From  us 
they  get  a  mark  and  a  half  to  two  marks  a  day 
and  as  many  potatoes  as  they  can  eat.  The 
women  get  less,  not  because  they  work  less,  but 
because  they  are  women  and  must  not  be  encour- 
aged. The  overseer  lives  with  them,  and  has  a 
loaded  revolver  in  his  pocket  and  a  savage  dog 
at  his  heels.  For  the  first  week  or  two  after 
their  arrival  the  foresters  and  other  permanent 
officials  keep  guard  at  night  over  the  houses 
they  are  put  into.  I  suppose  they  find  it  sleepy 
work ;  for  certain  it  is  that  spring  after  spring 
the  same  thing  happens,  fifty  of  them  getting 
away  in  spite  of  all  our  precautions,  and  we  are 
left  with  our  mouths  open  and  much  out  of 
pocket.  This  spring,  by  some  mistake,  they 
arrived  without  their  bundles,  which  had  gone 
astray  on  the  road,  and,  as  they  travel  in  their 
best  clothes,  they  refused  utterly  to  work  until 


If 


\: 


'M 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

their  luggage  came.  Xearly  a  week  was  lost 
waiting,  to  the  despair  of  all  in  authority. 

Nor  will  any  persuasions  induce  them  to  do  any- 
thing on  Saints'  days,  and  there  surely  never  was 
a  church  so  full  of  them  as  the  Russian  Church. 
In  the  spring,  when  every  hour  is  of  vital  impor- 
tance, the  work  is  constantly  being  interrupted  by 
them,  and  the  workers  lie  sleeping  in  the  sun  the 
whole  day,  agreeably  conscious  that  they  are 
pleasing  themselves  and  the  Church  at  one  and 
the  same  time — a  state  of  perfection  as  rare  as 
it  is  desirable.  Reason  unaided  by  Faith  is  of 
course  exasperated  at  this  waste  of  precious  time, 
and  I  confess  that  during  the  first  mild  days 
after  the  long  winter  frost,  when  it  is  possible  to 
begin  to  Avork  the  ground,  I  have  sympathized 
with  the  gloom  of  the  Man  of  "Wrath,  confronted 
in  one  week  by  two  or  three  empty  days  on  which 
no  man  will  labor,  and  have  listened  in  silence  to 
his  remarks  about  distant  Russian  saints. 

I  suppose  it  was  my  own  superfluous  amount  of 
civilization  that  made  me  pity  these  people  when 
first  I  came  to  live  among  them.  They  herd  to- 
gether like  animals  and  do  the  work  of  animals ; 
but  in  spite  of  the  armed  overseer,  the  dirt  and 


/ 


/ 


^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden, 
the  rags,  the  meals  of  potatoes  washed  down  by 
weak  vinegar  and  water,  I  am  beginning  to  be- 
lieve that  they  would  strongly  object  to  soap,  I 
am  sure  they  would  not  wear  new  clothes,  and  I 
hear  them  coming  home  from  their  work  at  dusk 
singing.     They  are  like  little  children  or  animals 
in  their  utter  inability  to   grasp  the  idea  of  a 
future  ;  and,  after  all,  if  you  work  all  day  in  God's 
sunshine,  when  evening  comes  you  are  pleasantly 
tired  and  ready  for  rest  and  not  much  inclined  to 
find  fault  with  your  lot.     I  have  not  yet  per- 
suaded   myself,  however,  that  the    women    are 
happy.     They  have  to  work  as  hard  as  the  men 
and  get  less  for  it ;  they  have  to  produce  offspring, 
quite  regardless  of   times  and    seasons  and  the 
general  fitness  of  things  ;  they  have  to  do  this  as 
expeditiously  as  possible,  so  that  they  may  not 
unduly  interrupt  the  work  in  hand  ;  nobody  helps 
them,  notices  them,  or  cares  about  them,  least  of 
all  the  husband.     It  is  quite  a  usual  thing  to  see 
them  working  in  the  fields  in  the  morning,  and 
working  again  in  the  afternoon,  having  in  the  in- 
terval produced  a  baby.     The  baby  is  left  to  an 
old  woman  whose  dnty  it  is  to  look  after  babies 
collectively.     When  I  expressed  my  horror  at  the 


A 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

poor  creatures  working  immediately  afterward  as 
though  nothing  had  happened,  the  Man  of  AVrath  S|^ 
informed  me  that  they  did  not  suffer  because  thej 
had  never  worn  corsets,  nor  had  their  mothers 
and  grandmothers.  We  were  riding  together  at 
the  time,  and  had  just  passed  a  batch  of  workers, 
and  my  husband  was  speaking  to  the  overseer 
when  a  woman  arrived  alone,  and  taking  up  a 
spade  began  to  dig.  She  grinned  cheerfully  at 
us  as  she  made  a  courtesy,  and  the  overseer  re- 
marked that  she  had  just  been  back  to  the  house 
and  had  a  baby. 

"  Poor,  2XJor  woman  !  "  I  cried,  as  we  rode  on, 
feeling  for  some  occult  reason  very  angry  with 
the  Man  of  Wrath.  "And  her  wretched  hus- 
band doesn't  care  a  rap,  and  will  probably  beat 
her  to-night  if  his  supper  isn't  right.  AThat  non- 
sense it  is  to  talk  about  the  equality  of  the  sexes 
when  the  women  have  the  babies  !  " 

"  Quite  so,  my  dear,"  replied  the  Man  of  Wrath, 
smiling  condescendingly.  "You  have  got  to 
the  very  root  of  the  matter.  Kature,  while  im- 
posing this  agreeable  duty  on  the  woman,  weak- 
ens her  and  disables  her  for  any  serious  competi-  ^^^ZHT 
tion  with  man.     How  can  a  person  who  is  con- 


\ 


V 


=^0 


^ii 


-jj'^' 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Gard 

stautly  losing  a  year  of  the  best  part  of  her 
compete  with  a  young  man  who  never  loses  any 
time  at  all  ?     He  has  the  brute   force,  and  his 
last  word  on  any  subject  could  always  be  his  list.*' 

I  said  nothing.     It  was  a  dull,  gray  afternoon 
in  the  beginning  of  Xovember,   and   the  leaves  'i^^p^^C^ 
dropped  slowly  and  silently  at  our  horses'  feet   ^%' wXS^V 
as  we  rode  toward  the  Hirschwald. 

''  It  is  a  universal  custom,''  proceeded  the  Man 
of  Wrath,  '•'  among  these  Prussians,  and  I  believe 
among  the  lower  classes  everywhere,  and  cer- 
tainly commendable  on  the  score  of  simplicity,  to 
silence  a  woman's  objections  and  aspirations  by 
knocking  her  down.  I  have  heard  it  said  that 
this  apparently  brutal  action  has  anything  but  the 
maddening  effect  tenderly  nurtured  persons  might  ^t;  ,^^v:^:  i-.)^?^^ 
suppose,  and  that  the  patient  is  soothed  and  sat- 
isfied with  a  rapidity  and  completeness  unattain- 
able by  other  and  more  polite  methods.  Do  you 
suppose,''  he  went  on,  flicking  a  twig  off  a  tree 
with  his  whip  as  we  passed,  "  that  the  intellectual 
husband,  wrestling  intellectually  with  the  chaotic 
yearnings  of  his  intellectual  wife,  ever  achieves 
the  result  aimed  at  ?  He  may  and  does  go  on 
wrestlinsr  till  he  is  tired,  but  never  does  he  in  ' 


LIVE    IN   PARADISE 


^  ALOt^ 


g^ 


l^izabctli  and  Her  German  Garden. 


^■^ 


"  Pray,  ray  dear  man,"  I  said,  pointing  with  my  ; 
whip,  "look  at  that  i>aby  moon  so  innocently 
41  ))('(iping  at  us  over  the  ed«^o  of  the  mist  just  be- 
hind that  silver  birch,  and  don't  talk  so  much 
about  women  and  tilings  you  don't  understand. 
AVhat  is  the  use  of  your  bothering  about  fists  and 
whips  and  muscles  and  all  the  dreadful  things  in- 
vented f«jr  the  confusion  of  obstreperous  wives  'i 
You  know  you  are  a  civilized  husband,  and  a  civ- 
ilized husband  is  a  creature  who  has  ceased  to  be 
a  man." 

"  And  a  civilized  wife  ? "  he  asked,  bringing  his  ^  ^i 
horse   close  up  beside  me  and  putting  his  arm 
j",  round  ray  waist,  "  has  she  ceased  to  be  a  woman  ? " 
''^^       "  I  should  think  so,  indeed — she  is  a  goddess,  y 
jiud  can  never  be  worshiped  and  adored  enough." 
'^  It  seems  to  me,"  he  said,  "  that  the  conversa- 
I  ijon  is  growing  personal." 

I  started  off  at  a  canter  across  the  short  springy 
t  inf.  The  Ilirschwald  is  an  enchanted  place  on  such 
Mil  evening  when  the  mists  lie  low  on  the  turf,  and 
overhead  the  delicate,  bare  branches  of  the  silver 
hirches  stand  out  clear  against  the  soft  sky,  while 
1  he  little  moon  looks  down  kindly  on  the  damp 
November  world.     Where  the  trees  thicken  into 


jf, 


'j\,  f 


as 


;-:-«■;,.■■  %t!' M-,|. »., 


'^;.U'./ 


U  <'  t 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden, 

a  wood  the  fragrance  of  the  wet  earth  and  rot- 
ting leaves  kicked  up  by  the  horses'  hoofs  fills  my 
soul  with  delight.  I  particularly  love  that  smell 
— it  brings  before  me  the  entire  benevolence  of 
Xature,  forever  working  death  and  decay,  so 
piteous  in  themselves,  into  the  means  of  fresh  life 
and  glory,  and  sending  up  sweet  odors  as  she 
works. 


December  7. — I  have  been  to  England.  I  went 
for  at  least  a  month,  and  stayed  a  week  in  a  fog 
and  was  blown  home  again  in  a  gale.  Twice  I 
fled  before  the  fogs  into  the  country  to  see  friends 
with  gardens,  but  it  was  raining,  and  except  the 
beautiful  lawns  (not  to  be  had  in  the  Fatherland) 
and  the  infinite  possibilities,  there  was  nothing 
to  interest  the  intelligent  and  garden-loving  for- 
eigner, for  the  good  reason  that  you  cannot  be 
interested  in  gardens  under  an  umbrella.  So  I 
went  back  to  the  fogs,  and  after  groping  about 
for  a  few  days  more  began  to  long  inordinately 
for  Germany.  A  terrific  gale  sprang  up  after  I 
had  started,  and  the  journey  both  by  sea  and  land, 
was  full  of  horrors,  the  trains  in  Germany  being 
heated  to  such  an  extent  that  it  is  next  to  impos- 


r 


4> 


1 


,/ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden 

sible  to  sit  still,  great  gusts  of  hot  air  coming  up 
under  the  cushions,  the  cushions  themselves  being 
very  hot  and  the  wretched  traveler  still  hotter. 

But  when  I  reached  my  home  and  got  out  of 
the  train  into  the  purest,  brightest  snow-atmos-    ^^^.-^^^ 
phere,  the  air  so  still  that  the  whole  world  seemed    ^J'^i 
to  be  listening,  the  sky  cloudless,  the  crisp  snow    /y';\^^ 
sparkling  underfoot  and  on  the  trees,  and  a  happy    J'/'/^- 
row  of  three  beaming  babies  awaiting  me,  I  was     //|>\ 
consoled  for  all  my  torments,  only  remembering 
them  enough  to  wonder  why  I  had  gone  away  at   y/ 
all. 

The  babies  each  had  a  kitten  in  one  hand  and 
an  elegant  bouquet  of  pine  needles  and  grass  in 
\^*.^|  the  other,  and  what  with  the  due  presentation  of 
the  bouquets  and  the  struggles  of  the  kittens,  the 
huofo^ino^  and  kissino^  was  much  interfered  with. 
Kittens,  bouquets,  and  babies  vrere  all  somehow 
squeezed  into  the  sleigh,  and  off  we  went  with 
jingling  bells  and  shrieks  of  delight. 

'•  Directly  you  comes  home  the  fun  begins," 
said   the   May   baby,   sitting  very   close  to  me. 
"  How  the  snow  purrs ! ''  cried  the  April  baby, 
as  the  horses  scrunched  it  up    with    their    feet,  p/ 
The   June   baby  sat  loudly  singing  "  The  King 


^ 


i:n 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

of  Love  My  Shepherd  Is,"  and  swinging  her 
kitten  round  by  its  tail  to  emphasize  the 
rhythm. 

The  house,  half -buried  in  the  snow,  looked  the 
very  abode  of  peace  ;  and  I  ran  through  all  the 
rooms,  eager  to  take  possession  of  them  again, 
and  feeling  as  though  I  had  been  away  forever. 
When  I  got  to  the  library  I  came  to  a  standstill 
— ah,  the  dear  room,  what  happy  times  I  have 
spent  in  it  rummaging  among  the  books,  making 
plans  for  my  garden,  building  castles  in  the  air, 
writing,  dreaming,  doing  nothing  !  There  was  a 
big  peat  fire  blazing  half  up  the  chimney,  and  the 
old  housekeeper  had  put  pots  of  flowers  about, 
and  on  the  writing-table  was  a  great  bunch  of 
violets  scenting  the  rooms.  "  Oh,  how  good  it  is 
to  be  home  again  !  "  I  sighed  in  my  satisfaction. 
The  babies  clung  about  my  knees,  looking  up  at 
me  with  eyes  full  of  love.  Outside  the  dazzling 
snow  and  sunshine,  inside  the  bright  room  and 
happy  faces— I  thought  of  those  yellow  fogs  and 
shivered. 

The  library  is  not  used  by  the  Man  of  Wrath  ;  v\^^^ 
it  is  neutral  ground  where  we  meet  in  the  eve-  /4\_^ 
niugs  for  an  hour  before  he  disappears  into  his        ^   \^^ 


T 


•V 


r 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

own  rooms — a  series  of  very  smoky  dens  in  the 
southeast  corner  of  the  house.  It  looks,  1  am 
afraid,  rather  too  gay  for  an  ideal  library  ;  and 
its  coloring,  white  and  yellow,  is  so  cheerful  as  to 
be  almost  frivolous.  There  are  white  bookcases 
all  round  the  walls,  and  there  is  a  great  fireplace, 
and  four  windows,  facing  full  south,  opening  on 
to  my  most  cherished  bit  of  garden,  the  bit  round 
the  sun-dial  ;  so  that  with  so  much  color  and 
such  a  big  fire  and  such  floods  of  sunshine  it  has 
anything  but  a  sober  air,  in  spite  of  the  venerable 
volumes  filling  the  shelves.  Indeed,  I  should 
never  be  surprised  if  they  skipped  down  from 
their  places,  and,  picking  up  their  leaves,  began 
to  dance. 

With  this  room  to  live  in.  I  can  look  forward 
with  perfect  equanimity  to  being  snowed  up  for 
any  time  Providence  thinks  proper  ;  and  to  go 
into  the  garden  in  its  snowed-up  state  is  like 
goiug  into  a  bath  of  purity.  The  first  breath  on 
opening  the  door  is  so  inefl'ably  pure  that  it 
makes  me  gasp,  and  I  feel  a  black  and  sinful 
object  in  the  midst  of  all  the  spotlessness.  Yes- 
terday I  sat  out  of  doors  near  the  sun-dial  the 
whole  afternoon,  with  the  thermometer  so  many 


\i 


-^' 


'>> 


w 


-1' 


r 


.^^^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

degrees  below  freezing  that  it  will  be  weeks  find- 
ing its  way  up  again  ;  but  there  was  no  wind,  and 


S    beautiful  sunshine,  and  I  was  well  wrapped  up  in 


furs.  I  even  had  tea  brought  out  there,  to  the 
astonishment  of  the  menials,  and  sat  till  long 
after  the  sun  had  set,  enjoying  the  frosty  air.  I 
had  to  drink  the  tea  very  quickly,  for  it  showed  a 
strong  inclination  to  begin  to  freeze.  After  the 
sun  had  gone  down  the  rooks  came  home  to  their 
nests  in  the  garden  with  a  great  fuss  and  flutter- 
ing, and  many  hesitations  and  squabbles  before 
they  settled  on  their  respective  trees.  They  flew 
over  my  head  in  hundreds  with  a  mighty  swish 
of  wings,  and  when  they  had  arranged  themselves 
comfortably  an  intense  hush  fell  upon  the  garden, 
and  the  house  began  to  look  like  a  Christmas 
card,  with  its  white  roof  against  the  clear,  pale 
green  of  the  western  sky,  and  lamplight  shining 
in  the  windows. 

I  had  been  reading  a  Life  of  Luther  lent  me  by 
our  parson  in  the  intervals  between  looking 
round  me  and  being  happy.  He  came  one  day 
with  the  book  and  begged  me  to  read  it,  having 
discovered  that  my  interest  in  Luther  was  not  as 
living  as  it  ought  to  be  ;  so  I  took  it  out  with  me 


1  t■^•:iSfe-'-^': 


!«    ^^W^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

into  the  garden,  because  the  dullest  book  takes  on 
a  certain  saving  grace  if  read  out  of  doors,  just  as 
bread  and  butter,  devoid  of  charm  in  the  drawing- 
room,  is  ambrosia  eaten  under  a  tree.  I  read 
Luther  all  the  afternoon  with  pauses  for  refresh- 
ing glances  at  the  garden  and  the  sky,  and  much 
thankfulness  in  my  heart.  His  struggles  with 
devils  amazed  me  ;  and  I  wondered  whether  such 
a  day  as  that,  full  of  grace  and  the  forgiveness  of 
sins,  never  struck  him  as  something  to  make  him 
relent  even  toward  devils.  He  apparently  never 
allowed  himself  to  just  be  happy.  He  was  a 
wonderful  man,  but  I  am  glad  I  w^as  not  his 
wife. 

Our  parson  is  an  interesting  person,  and  untir- 
ing in  his  efforts  to  improve  himself.  Both  he 
and  his  wife  study  w^henever  they  have  a  spare 
moment,  and  there  is  a  tradition  that  she  stirs  her 
puddings  with  one  hand  and  holds  a  Latin  gram- 
mar in  the  other,  the  grammar,  of  course,  getting 
the  greater  share  of  her  attention.  To  most  Ger- 
man Hausfraus  the  dinners  and  the  puddings  are 
of  paramount  importance,  and  they  pride  them- 
selves on  keeping  those  parts  of  their  houses  that 
are  seen  in  a  state  of  perpetual  and  spotless  per- 


^ 


^XkMr^^r. 


fection,  and  this  is  exceedingly  praiseworthy ;  but. 

^/^^   I  would  humbly  inquire,  are  there  not  other  things 
even  more   important  ?     And  is  not  plain  living 
and  high   thinking   better   than  the  other  way 
./'N  f   about  ?     And  all  too  careful  making  of  dinners 

f)i       and  dusting  of  furniture  takes  a  terrible  amount     f.^M' 
of  precious  time,  and — and  with  shame  I  confess  '""^ 

that  my  sympathies  are  all  with  the  pudding  and 
the  grammar.  It  cannot  be  right  to  be  the  slave 
_  of  one's  household  gods,  and  I  protest  that  if  my 
furniture  ever  annoyed  me  by  wanting  to  be 
dusted  when  T  wanted  to  be  doing  something 
else,  and  there  was  no  one  to  do  the  dusting  for 
A  me,  I  should  cast  it  all  into  the  nearest  bonfire 
and  sit  and  warm  my  toes  at  the  flames  with  great 
contentment,  triumphantly  selling  my  dusters  to 
J^  the  very  next  pedler  who  was  weak  enough  to 
buy  them.  Parsons'  wives  have  to  do  the  house- 
work and  cooking  themselves,  and  are  thus  not  --;r= 
only  cooks  and  housemaids,  but  if  they  have  chil- 
dren— and  they  always  do  have  children — they 
are  head  and  under  nurse  as  well ;  and  besides 
these  trifling  duties  have  a  good  deal  to  do  with 
their  fruit  and  vegetable  garden,  and  everything 
to  do  with  their  poultry.     This  being  so,  is  it  not 

9 


<C 


^-x^ 


pathetic  to  find  a  young  woman  bravely  strug- 
gling to  learn  languages  and  keep  up  with  her 
husband?  If  I  were  that  husband,  those  pud- 
dino^s  would  taste  sweetest  to  me  that  were 
served  with  Latin  sauce.  They  are  both  se- 
verely pious,  and  are  forever  engaged  in  des- 
perate efforts  to  practise  what  they  preach  ;  than 
which,  as  we  all  know,  nothing  is  more  difficult. 
He  works  in  his  parish  with  the  most  noble  self- 
devotion,  and  never  loses  courage,  although  his 
efforts  have  been  several  times  rewarded  by  dis- 
gusting libels  pasted  up  on  the  street-corners, 
thrown  under  doors,  and  even  fastened  to  his  own 
garden  wall.  The  peasant  hereabouts  is  past  be- 
W^^:-  »  lief  low  and  animal,  and  a  sensitive,  intellectual 
':^l^:::^^'^^ii  parson  among  them  is  really  a  pearl  before  swine,  k 
'•M'W -^1^  For  years  he  has  gone  on  unflinchingly,  filled  •  ' 
./v..^^,.  with  the  most  living  faith  and  hope  and  charity, 
■'■•■••-•■  and  I  sometimes  wonder  whether  they  are  any 
better  now  in  his  parish  than  they  were  under  his 
predecessor,  a  man  who  smoked  and  drank  beer 
from  Monday  morning  to  Saturday  night,  never 
did  a  stroke  of  work,  and  often  kept  the  scanty 
congregation  waiting  on  Sunday  afternoons  while 
he  finished  his  post-prandial  nap.     It  is  discour- 


V 


..\l 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

aging  enough  to  make  most  men  give  in,  and 
leave  the  parish  to  get  to  heaven  or  not  as  it 
pleases;  but  he  never  seems  discouraged,  and 
goes  on  sacrificing  the  best  part  of  his  life  to 
these  people,  when  all  his  tastes  are  literary,  and 
all  his  inclinations  toward  the  life  of  the  student. 
His  convictions  drag  him  out  of  his  little  home  at 
all  hours  to  minister  to  the  sick  and  exhort  the 
wicked ;  they  give  him  no  rest,  and  never  let 
him  feel  he  has  done  enough ;  and  when  he  comes 
home  weary,  after  a  day's  wrestling  with  his 
parishioners'  souls,  he  is  confronted  on  his  door- 
step by  filthy  abuse  pasted  up  on  his  own  front 
door.  He  never  speaks  of  these  things,  but  how 
shall  they  be  hid  ?  Everybody  here  knows  every- 
thing that  happens  before  the  day  is  over,  and 
what  we  have  for  dinner  is  of  far  greater  general 
interest  than  the  most  astounding  political  earth- 
quake. They  have  a  pretty,  roomy  cottage,  and 
a  good  bit  of  ground  adjoining  the  churchyard. 
His  predecessor  used  to  hang  out  his  washing  on 
the  tombstones  to  dry,  but  then  he  was  a  person 
entirely  lost  to  all  sense  of  decency,  and  had 
finally  to  be  removed,  preaching  a  farewell  ser- 
mon of  a  most  vituperative  description,  and  hurl- 


\: 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

ing  invective  at  the  Man  of  Wrath,  who  sat  up 
in  his  box  drinking  in  every  word  and  enjoying 
himself  thoroughly.  The  Man  of  Wrath  likes 
novelty,  and  such  a  sermon  had  never  been  heard 
before.  It  is  spoken  of  in  the  village  to  this  day 
;^  with  bated  breath  and  awful  joy. 

December  22. — Up  to  now  we  hav^e  had  a 
beautiful  winter.  Clear  skies,  frost,  little  wind, 
and,  except  for  a  sharp  touch  now  and  then, 
very  few  really  cold  days.  My  windows  are  gay 
with  hyacinths  and  lilies  of  the  valley ;  and 
though,  as  I  have  said,  I  don't  admire  the  smell 
of  hyacinths  in  the  spring  when  it  seems  want- 
ing in  youth  and  chastity  next  to  that  of  other 
flowers,  I  am  glad  enough  now  to  bury  my  nose 
in  their  heavy  sweetness.  In  December  one  can- 
not afford  to  be  fastidious ;  besides,  one  is  ac- 
tually less  fastidious  about  everything  in  the 
winter.  The  keen  air  braces  soul  as  well  as  body 
into  robustness,  and  the  food  and  the  perfume 
disliked  in  the  summer  are  perfectly  welcome 
then. 

I  am  very  busy  preparing  for  Christmas,  but 
have  often  locked  myself  up  in  a  room  alone, 


Elizabeth  and 

shutting  out  my  unfinished  duties,  to  study  the 
flower  catalogues  and  make  my  lists  of  seeds  and 
shrubs  and  trees  for  the  spring.  It  is  a  fasci- 
nating occupation,  and  acquires  an  additional 
charm  when  you  know  you  ought  to  be  doing 
?^.  something  else,  that  Christmas  is  at  the  door, 
that  children  and  servants  and  farm  hands  de- 
pend on  you  for  their  pleasure,  and  that  if  you 
don't  see  to  the  decoration  of  the  trees  and  house 
and  the  buying  of  the  presents  nobody  else  will. 
The  hours  fly  by  shut  np  with  those  catalogues 
and  with  Duty  snarling  on  the  other  side  of  the 
door.  I  don't  like  Duty — everything  in  the  least 
disagreeable  is  always  sure  to  be  one's  duty. 
"Why  cannot  it  be  my  duty  to  make  lists  and 
plans  for  the  dear  garden  ?  "  And  so  it  ^,9,"  I  in- 
sisted to  the  Man  of  Wrath,  when  he  protested 
against  what  he  called  wasting  my  time  upstairs. 
*'Xo,"  he  replied  sagely;  "your  garden  is  not 
your  Duty,  because  it  is  your  Pleasure." 

What  a  comfort  it  is  to  have  such  wells  of 
wisdom  constantly  at  my  disposal !  Anybody 
can  have  a  husband,  but  to  few  is  it  given  to 
have  a  sage,  and  the  combination  of  both  is  as 
rare  as  it  is  useful.     Indeed,  in  its  practical  utility 


':l'l 


W 


Garden. 

the  only  thing  I  ever  saw  to  equal  it  is  a  sofa  my 
neighbor  has  bought  as  a  Christmas  surprise  for 
her  husband,  and  which  she  showed  me  the  last 
time  I  called  there — a  beautiful  invention,  as  she 
explained,  combining  a  bedstead,  a  sofa,  and  a 
chest  of  drawers,  and  into  which  you  put  your 
clothes,  and  on  top  of  which  you  put  yourself, 
and  if  anybody  calls  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
and  you  happen  to  be  using  the  drawing-room  as 
a  bedroom,  you  just  pop  the  bed-clothes  inside, 
and  there  you  are  discovered  sitting  in  your  sofa 
and  looking  for  all  the  world  as  though  you  had 
been  expecting  visitors  for  hours. 

"  Pray  does  he  wear  pajamas  ? "  I  inquired. 

But  she  had  never  heard  of  pajamas. 

It  takes  a  long  time  to  make  my  spring  lists. 
I  want  to  have  a  border  all  yellow,  every  shade 
of  yellow  from  the  fieriest  orange  to  nearly  white, 
and  the  amount  of  work  and  studying  of  garden- 
ing books  it  costs  me  will  only  be  appreciated  by 
beginners  like  myself.  I  have  been  weeks  plan- 
ning  it,  and  it  is  not  nearly  finished.  I  want  it 
to  be  a  succession  of  glories  from  May  till  the 
frosts,  and  the  chief  feature  is  to  be  the  number 
of    "ardent  marigolds" — flowers    that    I   verj^ 


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1 


^^'     \    / 


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^'A 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


tenderly  love — and  nasturtiums.  The  nastur- 
tiums are  to  be  of  every  sort  and  shade,  and  are 
to  climb  and  creep  and  grow  in  bushes,  and  show 
their  lovely  flowers  and  leaves  to  the  best  ad- 
vantage. Then  there  are  to  be  eschscholtzias, 
dahlias,  sunflowers,  zinnias,  scabiosa,  portulaca, 
yellow  violas,  yellow  stocks,  yellow  sweet-peas, 
yellow  lupins — everything  that  is  yellow  or  that 
has  a  yellow  variety.  The  place  I  have  chosen 
for  it  is  a  long,  wide  border  in  the  sun,  at  the 
foot  of  a  grassy  slope  crowned  with  lilacs  and 
pines  and  facing  southeast.  You  go  through  a 
little  pine  wood,  and,  turning  a  corner,  are  to 
come  suddenly  upon  this  bit  of  captured  morning 
glory.  I  want  it  to  be  blinding  in  its  bright- 
ness after  the  dark,  cool  path  through  the 
wood. 

That  is  the  idea.  Depression  seizes  me  when 
I  reflect  upon  the  probable  difference  between 
the  idea  and  its  realization.  I  am  ignorant,  and 
the  gardener  is,  I  do  believe,  still  more  so  ;  for 
he  was  forcing  some  tulips,  and  they  have  all 
shriveled  up  and  died,  and  he  says  he  cannot 
imagine  why.  Besides,  he  is  in  love  with  the 
cook,  and  is  going  to  marry  her  after  Christmas, 


'11 


-^ 


m&Mt:. 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

and  refuses  to  enter  into  any  of  my  plans  with 
the  enthusiasm  they  deserve,  but  sits  with  vacant 
eye  dreamily  chopping  wood  from  morning  till 
night  to  keep  the  beloved  one's  kitchen  fire  well 
supplied.  I  cannot  understand  any  one  prefer- 
ring cooks  to  marigolds ;  those  future  marigolds, 
shadowy  as  they  are,  and  whose  seeds  are  still 
sleeping  at  the  seedsman's,  have  shone  through 
my  winter  days  like  golden  lamps. 

I  wish  with  all  my  heart  I  were  a  man,  for  of 
course  the  first  thing  I  should  do  would  be  to 
buy  a  spade  and  go  and  garden,  and  then  I  should 
have  the  delight  of  doing  everything  for  my 
flowers  with  my  own  hands  and  need  not  waste 
time  explaining  what  I  want  done,  to  somebody 
else.  It  is  dull  work  giving  orders  and  trying  to 
describe  the  bright  visions  of  one's  brain  to  a 
person  who  has  no  visions  and  no  brain,  and  who 
thinks  a  yellow  bed  should  be  calceolarias  edged 
with  blue. 

I  have  taken  care  in  choosing  my  yellow  plants 
to  put  down  only  those  humble  ones  that  are 
easily  pleased  and  grateful  for  little,  for  my  soil 
is  by  no  means  all  that  it  might  be,  and  to  most 
plants  the  climate  is  rather  trying.     I  feel  really 


I'M' 


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Elizabeth  and  Her  German 

grateful  to  any  flower  that  is  sturdy  and  willing 
enough  to  flourish  here.  Pansies  seem  to  like 
the  place,  and  so  do  sweet-peas  ;  pinks  don't  and 
after  much  coaxing  gave  hardly  any  flowers  last 
summer.  Xearly  all  the  roses  were  a  success,  in 
spite  of  the  sandy  soil,  except  the  tea-rose  Adam, 
which  was  covered  with  buds  ready  to  open,  when 
they  suddenly  turned  brown  and  died,  and  three 
standard  Dr.  Grills  which  stood  in  a  row  and 
simply  sulked.  I  had  been  very  excited  about 
-^^  Dr.  Grills,  his  description  in  the  catalogues  being 
^/s^  specially  fascinating,  and  no  doubt  I  deserved  the 
snubbing  I  got.  "  Xever  be  excited,  my  dears, 
about  anything,"  shall  be  the  advice  I  will  give 
the  three  babies  when  the  time  comes  to  take  them 
out  to  parties,  "  or,  if  you  are,  don't  show  it.  If 
by  nature  you  are  volcanoes,  at  least  be  only  smol- 
dering ones.  Don't  look  pleased,  don't  look  in- 
terested, don't,  above  all  things,  look  eager.  Calm 
indifference  should  be  written  on  every  feature  of 
your  faces.  Xever  show  that  you  like  any  one 
person,  or  any  one  thing.  Be  cool,  languid,  and 
reserved.  If  you  don't  do  as  your  mother  tells 
you,  and  are  just  gushing,  frisky,  young  idiots, 
snubs  will  be  your  portion.     If  you  do  as  she  tells  | 


.^ 


??>^--:^ 


3^ou,  you'll  marry  princes  and  live  happily  ever 
after." 

Dr.  Grill  must  be  a  German  rose.  In  this  part 
of  the  world  the  more  you  are  pleased  to  see  a 
person  the  less  is  he  pleased  to  see  you ;  whereas, 
if  you  are  disagreeable,  he  will  grow  pleasant 
visibly,  his  countenance  expanding  into  wider 
amiability  the  more  your  own  is  stiff  and  sour. 
But  I  was  not  prepared  for  that  sort  of  thing  in  a 
rose,  and  was  disgusted  with  Dr.  Grill.  He  had 
the  best  place  in  the  garden — warm,  sunny,  and 
sheltered ;  his  holes  were  prepared  with  the  ten- 
derest  care ;  he  was  given  the  most  dainty  mix- 
ture of  compost,  clay,  and  manure ;  he  was 
watered  assiduously  all  through  the  drought  wheu 
more  willing  flowers  got  nothing  ;  and  he  refused 
to  do  anything  but  look  black  and  shrivel.  He 
did  not  die,  but  neither  did  he  live— he  just 
existed ;  and  at  the  end  of  the  summer  not  one  of 
him  had  a  scrap  more  shoot  or  leaf  than  when  he 
was  first  put  in  in  April.  It  would  have  been 
better  if  he  had  died  straight  away,  for  then  I 
should  have  known  what  to  do ;  as  it  is,  there  he 
is  still  occupying  the  best  place,  wrapped  up  care- 
fully for  the  winter^  excluding  kinder  roses,  and 


^.l//-^ 


:.A 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

probably  intending  to  repeat  the  same  conduct 
next  year.  Well,  trials  are  the  portion  of  man- 
kind, and  gardeners  have  their  share,  and  in  any 
case  it  is  better  to  be  tried  by  plants  than  per- 
sons, seeing  that  with  plants  you  know  that  it  is 
you  who  are  in  the  wrong,  and  with  persons  it  is 
always  the  other  way  about — and  who  is  there 
among  us  who  has  not  felt  the  pangs  of  injured 
innocence,  and  known  them  to  be  grievous  ? 

I  have  two  visitors  staying  with  me,  though  I 
have  done  nothing  to  provoke  such  an  infliction, 
and  had  been  looking  forward  to  a  happy  little 
Christmas  alone  with  the  Man  of  Wrath  and  the 
babies.  Fate  decreed  otherwise.  Quite  regu- 
larly, if  I  look  forward  to  anything,  Fate  steps  in 
and  decrees  otherwise ;  I  don't  know  why  it 
should,  but  it  does.  I  had  not  even  invited  these 
good  ladies — like  greatness  on  the  modest,  they 
were  thrust  upon  me.  One  is  Irais,  the  sweet 
singer  of  the  summer,  whom  I  love  as  she  deserves, 
but  of  whom  I  certainly  thought  I  had  seen  the 
last  for  at  least  a  year,  when  she  wrote  and  asked 
if  I  would  have  her  over  Christmas,  as  her  husband 
was  out  of  sorts,  and  she  didn't  like  him  in  that 
state.     Neither  do  I  like  sick  husbands,  so  full  of 


\^ 


0h 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

sympathy,  I  begged  her  to  come,  and  here  she  ib. 
And  the  other  is  Minora. 

Why  I  have  to  have  Minora  I  don't  know,  for 
I  was  not  even  aware  of  her  existence  a  fortnight 
ago.  Then  coming  down  cheerfully  one  morning  ^r:=^^ 
to  breakfast — it  was  the  very  day  after  my  return 
from  England—  I  found  a  letter  from  an  English 
friend,  who  up  till  then  had  been  perfectly  innoc- 
uous, asking  me  to  befriend  Minora.  I  read  the 
letter  aloud  for  the  benefit  of  the  Man  of  "Wrath, 
who  was  eating  Sjnckgans,  a  delicacy  much  sought 
after  in  these  parts. 

"  Do,  my  dear  Elizabeth,"  wrote  my  friend, 
"  take  some  notice  of  the  poor  thing.  She  is 
studying  art  in  Dresden,  and  has  nowhere  literally 
to  go  for  Christmas.  She  is  very  ambitious  and 
hardworking " 

"Then,"  interrupted  the  Man  of  Wrath,  "she 
is  not  pretty.     Only  ugly  girls  work  hard.'' 

" — and  she  is  really  very  clever " 

"  I  do  not  like  clever  girls,  they  are  so  stupid," 
again  interrupted  the  Man  of  Wrath,  " — and  un- 
less some  kind  creature  like  yourself  takes  pity  on 
her  she  will  be  very  lonely." 

"  Then  let  her  be  lonely." 


^^^^^-  li   V^'/:  A-*^^'    "-  / ^^^   fV4^^    4i./'-- 


li;      Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


"  Her  mother  is  my  oldest   friend,  and  would 
^2i  be  greatly  distressed  to  think  that  her  daughter 
A^^  should  be  alone  in  a  foreign  town  at  such   a  sea- 
'^-?^  son." 

,j       "  I  do  not  mind  the  distress  of  the  mother." 
^\h'         "  Oh,  dear  me,"  I  exclaimed  impatiently,  "  I 
shall  have  to  ask  her  to  come  !  " 

''  If  you  should   be  inclined,"  the  letter  went 
^  on,  "  to  play  the  good  Samaritan,  dear  Elizabeth, 
_^  I  am  positive  you  would  find  Minora  a  bright,  in-    \JM^ 

■^    ^  telligent  companion " 

"  Minora  ? "  questioned  the  Man  of  Wrath. 
The   April  baby,  who  has  had  a  nursery  gov- 
erness of  an  altogether  alarmingly  zealous  type 
attached  to  her  person  for   the   last   six  weeks 
looked  up  from  her  bread  and  milk. 

"  It  sounds  like  islands,"  she  remarked  pen-      (J'l 
sively. 

The  governess  coughed. 

"Majora,   Minora,   Alderney,  and   Sark,"  ex- 
plained her  pupil. 
(^       I  looked  at  her  severely. 

"  If  you  are  not  careful,  April,"  I  said,  "  you'll 
be  a  genius  when  you  grow  up  and  disgrace 
your  parents." 

-- J!) 


«l» 


^^::^^ 


i^> 


iV. 


1 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

Miss  Jones  looked  as  though  she  did  not  like 
Germans.  I  am  afraid  she  despises  us  because 
she  thinks  we  are  foreigners — an  attitude  of 
mind  quite  British  and  wholly  to  her  credit ;  but 
we,  on  the  other  hand,  regard  her  as  a  for- 
eigner, which,  of  course,  makes  things  very  com- 
plicated. 

"  Shall  I  really  have  to  have  this  strange 
girl  ? "  I  asked,  addressing  nobody  in  particular 
and  not  expecting  a  reply. 

"  You  need  not  have  her,"  said  the  Man 
of  "Wrath  composedly,  "  but  you  will.  You 
will  write  to-day  and  cordially  invite  her,  and 
when  she  has  been  here  twenty-four  hours 
you  will  quarrel  with  her.  I  know  you,  my 
dear." 

"  Quarrel !     I  ?    With  a  little  art-student  ? " 

Miss  Jones  cast  down  her  eyes.  She  is  per- 
petually scenting  a  scene,  and  is  always  ready  to 
bring  whole  batteries  of  discretion  and  tact  and 
good  taste  to  bear  on  us,  and  seems  to  know  we 
are  disputing  in  an  unseemly  manner  when  we 
would  never  dream  it  ourselves  but  for  the  warn- 
ing of  her  downcast  eyes.  I  would  take  my  cour- 
age in  both  hands  and  ask  her  to  go,  for  besides 


^ 


(^ 


^ 


^ 


^z:? 


#"• 


7'^t'       Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden.  firi-ixiriMh 


v'V< 


this  superfluity   of  discreet  behavior    she  is,  al-   c;^ .  •^■:  ■•' : 
though  only  nursery,  rauch  too  zealous,  and  in-   |:t  .:  •    . 
clined  to  be  always  teaching  and  never  playing  ;   y'^<'--\^':-^/:% 
but,  unfortunately,  the  April  baby  adores  her  and   '\'^:..Sf"jfi 
''C^^a/    is  sure  there  never  was  anv  one  so  beautiful  be-   v<^^%^-:\.J :i::: 
'>^5^    fore.     She  comes  every  day  with  fresh  accounts 
/^I^<^^    of  the  splendors  of  her  wardrobe,  and  feeling  de- 
^^^    scriptions  of  her  umbrellas  and    hats ;  and  Miss 
i^  S^    Jones  looks  offended  and  purses  up  her  lips.     In 
ir^^l-"    common  with  most  governesses  she  has  a  little 
"O?      dark  down  on  her  upper  lip,  and  the  April  baby 
appeared  one  day  at  dinner  with  her  own  deco- 
rated in  faithful  imitation,  having  achieved  it  after 
much  struggling,  with  the  aid  of  a  lead  pencil 
and  unbounded  love.     Miss  Jones  put  her  in  the 
corner  for  impertinence.     I  wonder  whv  fi^overn-   ^?'-Q?70 
esses  are  so  unpleasant.     The  Man  of  Wrath  says       '  ''^  * 
it  is  because  they  are  not  married.     "Without  ven- 
turing to  differ  entirely  from  the  opinion  of  ex- 
"^    perience,  I   would  add   that   the   strain  of   con- 
^^^      tinually  having  to  set  an  example  must  surely  be 
'^    very  great.     It  is  much  easier,  and  often  more 
pleasant,  to  be  a  warning  than  an  example,  and 
governesses  are    but   women,   and    women    are 
sometimes     foolish,    and    when    you     want   to 


<a^-^. 


5;4J. 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

'ji  be  foolish  it  must   be  annoying  to  have  to  be 
wise. 

Minora  and  Irais  arrived  yesterday  together  ; 
or  rather,  when  the  carriage  drove  up,  Irais  got 
out  of  it  alone,  and  informed  me  that  there  was  a 
strange  girl  on  a  bicycle  a  little  way  behind.  1 
sent  back  the  carriage  to  pick  her  up,  for  it  was 
dusk  and  the  roads  are  terrible. 

"  But  why  do  you  have  strange  girls  here  at 
all  ?  "  asked  Irais  rather  peevishly,  taking  off  her 
hat  in  the  library  before  the  fire,  and  otherwise 
making  herself  very  much  at  home  ;  "  I  don't 
like  them.  I'm  not  sure  that  they're  not  worse 
than  husbands  who  are  out  of  order.  AYho  is 
she  ?  She  would  bicycle  from  the  station,  and  is, 
I  am  sure,  the  first  woman  who  has  done  it.  The 
little  boys  threw  stones  at  her." 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  that  only  shows  the  ignorance  of 
the  little  boys !  Never  mind  her.  Let  us  have 
tea  in  peace  before  she  comes." 

"  But  we  should  be  much  happier  without  her, 
she  grumbled.     "Weren't  we  happy  enough  in 
the  summer,  Elizabeth— just  you  and  I  ? " 

*'  Yes,  indeed  we  were,"  I  answered  heartily, 
putting  my  arms  round  her.     The  flame  of  my 


i^;?vv 


...:^^•: 


5J        .{••■ 


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Ill 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

affection  for  Irais  burns  very  brightly  on  the  day 
of  her  arrival ;  besides,  this  time  I  have  prudently 
provided  against  her  sinning  with  the  salt-cellars 
by  ordering  them  to  be  handed  round  like  vege-  ^'~J 
table  dishes.  We  had  finished  tea  and  she  had 
gone  up  to  her  room  to  dress  before  Minora  and 
her  bicycle  were  got  here.  I  hurried  out  to  meet 
her,  feeling  sorry  for  her,  plunged  into  a  circle  of 
strangers  at  such  a  very  personal  season  as  Christ- 
mas. But  she  was  not  very  shy  ;  indeed,  she  was 
less  shy  than  I  was,  and  lingered  in  the  hall,  giv- 
ing the  servants  directions  to  wipe  the  snow  off 
the  tires  of  her  machine  before  she  lent  an  atten- 
tive  ear  to  my  welcoming  remarks. 

*'  I  couldn't  make  your  man  understand  me  at 
the  station,"  she  said  at  last,  when  her  mind  was 
at  rest  about  her  bicycle;  "I  asked  him  how 
far  it  was,  and  what  the  roads  were  like,  and  he 
only  smiled.  Is  he  German  ?  But  of  course  he 
is — how  odd  that  he  didn't  understand.  You 
speak  English  very  well — very  well  indeed,  do 
you  know." 

By  this  time  we  were  in  the  library,  and  she 
stood  on  the  hearthrug  warming  her  back  while 
I  poured  her  out  some  tea. 


ife 


m 


f 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

"  What  a  quaint  room,"  she  remarked,  looking 
round,  "  and  the  hall  is  so  curious  too.  Yery  old, 
isn't  it  ?     There's  a  lot  of  copy  here." 

The  Man  of  Wrath,  who  had  been  in  the  hall 
on  her  arrival  and  had  come  in  with  us,  began  to 
look  about  on  the  carpet.  "  Copy  ? "  he  inquired ; 
"  Where's  copy  ?  " 

"  Oh — material,  you  know,  for  a  book.  I'm 
just  jotting  down  what  strikes  me  in  your  coun- 
try, and  when  I  have  time  shall  throw  it  into 
book  form."  She  spoke  very  loud,  as  English 
people  always  do  to  foreigners. 

"  My  dear,"  I  said  breathlessly  to  Irais,  when 
I  had  got  into  her  room  and  shut  the  door  and 
Minora  was  safely  in  hers,  "  what  do  you  think 
— she  writes  books  !  " 

"  What — the  bicycling  girl  ? " 

"  Yes — Minora — imagine  it !  " 

We  stood  and  looked  at  each  other  with  awe- 
struck faces. 

*'  How  dreadful !  "  murmured  Irais.  "  I  never 
met  a  young  girl  who  did  that  before." 

"  She  says  this  place  is  full  of  copy." 

"  Full  of  what  ?  " 

"  That's  what  vou  make  books  with." 


rfl. 


fcr'^fV.'"''>., 


r-%: 


/. 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  this  is  worse  than  I  expected ! 
A  strange  girl  is  always  a  bore  among  good 
friends,  but  one  can  generally  manage  her.  But 
a  girl  who  writes  books — why,  it  isn't  respect- 
able !  And  you  can't  snub  that  sort  of  people ; 
they're  unsnubbable." 

"  Oh,  but  we'll  try  I  "  I  cried,  with  such  hearti- 
ness that  we  both  laughed. 

The  hall  and  the  library  struck  Minora  most ; 
indeed,  she  lingered  so  long  after  dinner  in  the 
hall,  which  is  cold,  that  the  Man  of  Wrath  put 
on  his  fur  coat  by  way  of  a  gentle  hint.  His 
hints  are  always  gentle. 

She  wanted  to  hear  the  whole  story  about  the 
chapel  and  the  nuns  and  Gustavus  Adolphus, 
and  pulling  out  a  fat  notebook  began  to  take 
down  what  I  said.  I  at  once  relapsed  into 
silence. 

'' Well? "  she  said 

"  That's  all." 

"  Oh,  but  you've  only  just  begun." 

"  It  doesn't  go  any  further.  Won't  you  come 
into  the  library  \  " 

In  the  library  she  again  took  up  her  stand 
before  the  fire  and  warmed  herself,  and  we  sat 


w 


'^\M 


in  a  row  and  were  cold.  She  has  a  wonderfully 
good  profile,  which  is  irritating.  The  wind,  how- 
ever, is  tempered  to  the  shorn  lamb  by  her  eyes 
being  set  too  closely  together. 

Irais  lit  a  cigarette,  and  leaning  back  in  her 
chair  contemplated  her  critically  beneath  her 
long  eyelashes.  "  You  are  writing  a  book  ?  "  she 
asked  presently. 

"  "Well — yes,  I  suppose  I  may  say  that  I  am. 
Just  my  impressions,  you  know,  of  your  country. 
Anything  that  strikes  me  as  curious  or  amusing 
— I  jot  it  down,  and  when  I  have  time  shall  work 
it  up  into  something,  I  dare  say." 

"  Are  you  not  studying  painting  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  can't  study  that  forever.  We  have 
an  English  proverb  :  '  Life  is  short  and  Art  is 
long  ' — too  long,  I  sometimes  think — and  writing 
is  a  great  relaxation  when  I  am  tired." 

"  What  shall  you  call  it?  " 

"  Oh,  I  thought  of  calling  it  *  Journeyings  in 
Germany.'  It  sounds  well,  and  would  be  correct. 
Or  '  Jottings  from  German  Journeyings ' — I 
haven't  quite  decided  yet  which." 

"  By  the  author  of  *  Prowls  in  Pomerania,'  you 
might  add,"  suggested  Irais. 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

**  And  '  Drivel  from  Dresden,'  "  said  I. 

"  And  '  Bosh  from  Berlin,'  "  added  Irais. 

Minora  stared.  "  I  don't  think  those  two  last 
ones  would  do,"  she  said,  "  because  it  is  not  to 
be  a  facetious  book.  But  your  first  one  is  rather 
a  good  title,"  she  added  looking  at  Irais  and 
drawing  out  her  notebook.  "  I  think  I'll  just 
jot  that  down." 

'^  If  you  jot  down  all  we  say  and  then  publish 
it,  will  it  still  be  your  book  ? "  asked  Irais. 

But  Minora  was  so  busy  scribbling  that  she 
did  not  hear. 

"And  have  you  no  suggestions  to  make, 
Sage  ?  "  asked  Irais,  turning  to  the  Man  of  Wrath, 
who  was  blowing  out  clouds  of  smoke  in  silence. 

"  Ob,  do  you  call  him  Sage  ? "  cried  Minora ; 
"  and  always  in  English  ? " 

Irais  and  1  looked  at  each  other.  We  knew 
what  we  did  call  him,  and  were  afraid  Minora 
would  in  time  ferret  it  out  and  enter  it  in  her 
notebook.  The  Man  of  Wrath  looked  none  too 
well  pleased  to  be  alluded  to  under  his  very  nose 
by  our  new  guest  as  "  him." 

"  Husbands  are  always  sages,"  said  I  gravely. 

"  Though    sages    are  not  always    husbands," 


f 


^^z:::^ 


4a 


J 


(^ 


m: 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


lM''<I 


V^' 


said  Irais  with  equal  gravity 
bands — sag-e  and    husbands- 


Sages  and   hus- 
she   went     on 


>/^    musingly,  "  what  does  that  remind  you  of,  Miss 


Minora?" 

"  Ob,  I  know, — how  stupid  of  me !  "  cried 
Minora  eagerly,  her  pencil  in  mid-air  and  her 
brain  clutching  at  the  elusive  recollection,  "  sage 
and, — why, — yes, — no, — yes,  of  course — oh,"  dis- 


appointedly,   "  but    that's   vulgar — I    can't    put    %^%^'^o, , 
It  m."  *t..^-  . 

"  What  is  vulgar  ? "  I  asked. 

"  She  thinks  sage  and  onions  is  vulgar,"  said 
Irais  languidly ;  "  but  it  isn't,  it  is  very  good. " 
She  got  up  and  walked  to  the  piano,  and  sitting 
down,  began,  after  a   little  wandering   over   the 

^^  'M^W^  ^^^^'  ^^  ^^^°* 

'  //-'f^C '?\f        "  Do  you  play  ? "  I  asked  Minora. 
■  ''^V ' •     •■•■  '.i<^i^.        "  Yes,  but  I  am  afraid   I  am    rather    out    of 
,  'Jji    practise." 

I  said  no  more.  I  know  what  that  sort  of 
playing  is. 

When  we  were  lighting  our  bedroom  candles 
Minora  began  suddenly  to  speak  in  an  unknown 
tongue.  We  stared.  "  What  is  the  matter  with 
her?"  murmured  Irais. 


J'n.h 


[ 


t 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

'•I  thought,  perhaps/'  said  Minora  in  English, 
''  you  might  prefer  to  talk  German,  and  as  it  is    ^ 
all  the  same  to  me  what  I  talk " 

''  Oh,  pray  don't  trouble,"  said  Irais.     "  We  like 
airing  our  English — don't  we,  Elizabeth  ? " 


I   don't 


want 


mv    German    to    get   rusty. 


though,"  said  Minora  ;  "  I  shouldn't  like  to  for- 
get  it." 

''  Oh,  but  isn't  there  an  English  song,"  said 
Irais  twisting  her  neck  as  she  preceded  us  up- 
stairs—  '' '  'Tis  folly  to  remember,  'tis  wisdom  to 
forget?'" 

''  You  are  not  nervous  sleeping  alone,  I  hope," 
I  said  hastily. 

"  What  room  is  she  in  \ "  asked  Irais. 

"  Ko.  12." 

u  Oh  ! — do  you  believe  in  ghosts  ? " 

Minora  turned  pale. 

"  What  nonsense,"  said  I ;  "we  have  no  ghosts 
here.  Good  night.  If  you  want  anything,  mind 
you  ring." 

"  And  if  you  see  anything  curious  in  that  room," 
called  Irais  from  her  bedroom  door,  "  mind  you 
jot  it  down." 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

Decemher  27. — It  is  the  fashion,  I  believe,  to 
regard  Christmas  as  a  bore  of  rather  a  gross  de- 
scription, and  as  a  time  when  you  are  invited  to 
overeat  yourself,  and  pretend  to  be  merry  without 
just  cause.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  one  of  the 
prettiest  and  most  poetic  institutions  possible,  if 
observed  in  the  proper  manner,  and  after  having 
been  more  or  less  unpleasant  to  everybody  for  a 
whole  year  it  is  a  blessing  to  be  forced  on  that 
one  day  to  be  amiable,  and  it  is  certainly  de- 
lightful to  be  able  to  give  presents  without  be- 
ing haunted  by  the  conviction  that  you  are 
spoiling  the  recipient,  and  will  suffer  for  it  after- 
ward. Servants  are  only  big  children,  and  are 
made  just  as  happy  as  children  by  little  presents 
and  nice  things  to  eat,  and,  for  days  beforehand, 
every  time  the  three  babies  go  into  the  garden 
they  expect  to  meet  the  Christ  Child  with  His 
arms  full  of  gifts.  They  firmly  believe  that  it  is 
thus  their  presents  are  brought,  and  it  is  such  a 
charming  idea  that  Christmas  would  be  worth 
celebrating  for  its  sake  alone. 

As  great  secrecy  is  observed,  the  prepara- 
tions devolve  entirely  on  me,  and  it  is  not  very  easy 
work,  with  so  many  people  in  our  own  house  and 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden, 
on  each  of  the  farms,  and  all  the  children,  big 
and  little,    expecting   their  share   of   happiness. 
The  librarv  is  uninhabitable  for  several  days  be- 
fore and  after,   as  it  is  there  that  we  have  the 
trees  and  presents.     All  down  one  side  are  the 
trees,  and  the  other  three  sides  are  lined  with 
table's,  a  separate  one  for  each  person  in  the  house. 
When  the  trees  are  lighted,  and  stand  in  their 
radiance  shining  down  on  the  happy  faces,  I  for- 
get all  the  trouble  it  has  been,  and  the  number 
of  times  I  have  had  to  run  up  and  down  stairs,  and 
the  various  aches  in  head  and  feet,  and  enjoy  my- 
self as  much  as  anybody.    First  the  June  baby  is 
ushered  in,  then  the  others  and  ourselves  accord- 
ing to  age,  then  the  servants,  then  come  the  head 
inlpecto"  and  his  family,  the  other  inspectors  from 
the  different  farms,  the  mamsells,  the  bookkeepers 
and  secretaries,  and  then  aU  the  children,  troops 
and  troops    of    them-the  big  ones  leading  the 
little  ones  bv  the  hand  and  carrying  the  babies 
in  their  arms,  and  the  mothers  peeping  round  the 
door.    As  many  as  can  get  in  stand  in  front  of 
the  trees,  and  sing  two  or  three  carols ;  then  they 
are  -iven  their  presents,  and  go  off  triumphantly, 
makin-  room  for   the    nest  batch.    My  three 


X 


'4 


T' 


^- 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

babies  sang  lustily  too,  whether  they  happened  to 
know  what  was  being  sung  or  not.  They  had  on 
white  dresses  in  honor  of  the  occasion,  and  the 
June  baby  Avas  even  arrayed  in  a  low-neck  and 
short-sleeved  garment,  after  the  manner  of  Teu- 
tonic infants,  whatever  the  state  of  the  thermom- 
eter. Her  arms  are  like  miniature  prizefighter's 
arms — I  never  saw  such  things ;  they  are  the  pride 
and  joy  of  her  little  nurse,  who  had  tied  them 
up  with  blue  ribbons,  and  kept  on  kissing  them. 
I  shall  certainly  not  be  able  to  take  her  to  balls 
when  she  grows  up,  if  she  goes  on  having  arms 
like  that. 

When  they  came  to  say  good-night  they  were 
all  very  pale  and  subdued.  The  April  baby  had  an 
exhausted-looking  Japanese  doll  with  her,  which 
she  said  she  was  taking  to  bed,  not  because  she 
liked  him,  but  because  she  was  so  sorry  for  him, 
he  seemed  so  very  tired.  They  kissed  me  absently, 
and  went  away,  only  the  April  baby  glancing  at 
the  trees  as  she  passed  and  making  them  a  cour- 
tesy. 

"  Good-by,  trees,"  I  heard  her  say ;  and  then 
she  made  the  Japanese  doll  bow  to  them,  which 
he   did   in  a   very  languid  and    blase  fashion. 


-^m 


/,  / 


^s 


/^ 


'V 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

"  You'll  never  see  such  trees  again,"  she  told 
him,  giving  him  a  vindictive  shake,  "  for  you'll  be 
brokened  long  before  next  time." 

She  went  out,  but  came  back  as  though  she  had 
forgotten  something. 

"  Thank  the  Christkind  so  much^  Mummy, 
won't  you,  for  all  the  lovely  things  He  brought 
us.  I  suppose  you're  writing  to  Him  now,  isn't 
you  ? " 

I  cannot  see  that  there  was  anything  gross 
about  our  Christmas,  and  we  were  perfectly  merry 
without  any  need  to  pretend,  and  for  at  least  two 
days  it  brought  us  a  little  nearer  together,  and 
made  us  kind.  Happiness  is  so  wholesome  ;  it  in- 
vigorates and  warms  me  into  piety  far  more  effect- 
ually than  any  amount  of  trials  and  griefs,  and  an 
unexpected  pleasure  is  the  surest  means  of  bring- 
ing me  to  my  knees.  In  spite  of  the  protestations 
of  some  peculiarly  constructed  persons  that  they 
are  the  better  for  trials,  I  don't,  believe  it.  Such 
things  must  sour  us,  just  as  happiness  must  sweeten 
us,  and  make  us  kinder,  and  more  gentle.  And 
will  anybody  affirm  that  it  behooves  us  to  be  more 
thankful  for  trials  than  for  blessings  ?  We  were 
meant  to  be  happy,  and  to  accept  all  the  happiness 


V  r^r    iS^„ 


'^'m&'. 


J 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

offered  with  thankfulness — indeed,  ^ye  are  none  of 
us  ever  thankful  enough,  and  yet  we  each  get  so 
much,  so  very  much,  more  than  we  deserve.  I 
know  a  woman— she  stayed  with  me  last  summer 
—who  rejoices  grimly  when  those  she  loves  suffer. 
She  believes  that  it  is  our  lot,  and  that  it  braces 
us  and  does  us  good,  and  she  would  shield  no  oue 
from  even  unnecessary  pain  ;  she  weeps  with  the 
sufferer,  but  is  convinced  it  is  all  for  the  best. 
Well,  let  her  continue  in  her  dreary  beliefs ;  she 
has  no  garden  to  teach  her  the  beauty  and  the 
happiness  of  holiness ;  nor  does  she  in  the  least 
desire  to  possess  one ;  her  convictions  have  the  sad 
gray  coloring  of  the  dingy  streets  and  houses  she 
lives  among — the  sad  color  of  humanity  in  masses. 
Submission  to  what  people  call  their  ''lot"  is 
simply  ignoble.  If  your  lot  makes  you  cry  and 
be  wretched,  get  rid  of  it  and  take  another  ;  strike 
out  for  yourself ;  don't  listen  to  the  shrieks  of  your 
relations,  to  their  gibes  or  their  entreaties  ;  don't 
let  your  own  microscopic  set  prescribe  your 
goings-out  and  comings-in  ;  don't  be  afraid  of 
public  opinion  in  the  shape  of  the  neighbor  in  the 
next  house,  when  all  the  world  is  before  you,  new 
and  shining,  and  everything  is  possible,  if  you  will 


^ 


CM 


■^c 


■*>;=? 


■■••i^.- 


\k.^f^' 


r(^\^  only  be  energetic  and  independent  and  seize  oppor- 
'l?^?'''^  tunitv  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck. 
'  "^  '  '-'  To  bear  you  talk,"  said  Irais,  '•  no  one  would 
ever  imao-ine  that  you  dream  away  your  days  in 
a  garden  with  a  book,  and  that  you  never  in  your 
life  seized  anything  by  the  scruff  of  its  neck.  And 
what  is  scruff  ?  I  hope  I  have  not  got  any  on  me." 
And  she  craned  her  neck  before  the  glass. 

She  and  Minora  were  going  to  help  me  decorate 
the  trees,  but  very  soon  Irais  wandered  off  to  the 
piano,  and  Minora  was  tired  and  took  up  a  book  ; 
so  I  called  in  Miss  Jones  and  the  babies,— it  was 
Miss  Jones'  last  public  appearance,  as  I  shall  re- 
late,—and  after  working  for  the  best  part  of  two 
days  they  were  finished,  and  looked  like  lovely 
ladies    in    wide-spreading,    sparkling  petticoats, 
holding  up  their  skirts  with  glittering   fingers. 
Minora  wrote  a  long  description  of  them  for  a 
chapter  of  her  book  which  is  headed  JVoel—l  saw  ,v£^]^:^^>) 
that  much,  because  she  left  it  open  on  the  table  ^~^-^ 
while  she  went  to  talk  to  Miss  Jones.     They  were  ^^^^ 
fast  friends  from  the  very  first,  and  though  it  is        ULT 
said   to  be  natural  to  take  to  one's  own   country- 
men, I  am  unable  altogether  to  sympathize  with 
such  a  reason  for  sudden  affection. 


""^ 


:3J     .  ,.  .-.% 


V.-''-r 


''i.-f.'-jf  • 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

^'  I  wonder  what  they  talk  about  ?  "  I  said  to 
Irais  yesterday,  when  there  was  no  getting 
Minora  to  come  to  tea,  so  deeply  was  she  engaged 
in  conversation  with  Miss  Jones. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  how  can  I  tell  ?  Lovers,  I  sup- 
pose, or  else  they  think  they  are  clever,  and  then 
they  talk  rubbish."  « 

"  Well,  of  course,  Minora  thinks  she  is  clever." 

"I  suppose  she  does.  What  does  it  matter 
what  she  thinks  ?  Why  does  your  governess  look 
so  gloomy  ?  When  I  see  her  at  luncheon  I  always 
imagine  she  must  have  just  heard  that  somebody 
is  dead.  Eut  she  can't  hear  that  every  day. 
What  is  the  matter  with  her  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  she  feels  quite  as  proper  as  she 
looks,"  I  said  doubtfully  ;  I  was  forever  trying  to 
account  for  Miss  Jones'  expression. 

"  But  that  must  be  rather  nice,"  said  Irais.  "  It 
would  be  awful  for  her  if  she  felt  exactly  the  same 
as  she  looks." 

At  that  moment  the  door  leading  into  the 
schoolroom  opened  softly,  and  the  April  baby, 
tired  of  playing,  came  in  and  sat  down  at  my  feet, 
leaving  the  door  open  ;  and  this  is  what  we  heard 
Miss  Jones  saying : 


"fe 


Mi 


Mi:^ 


^ 


1 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden 


"  Parents  are  seldom  Avise,  and  the  strain  the 
conscientious  place  upon  themselves  to  appear  so 
before  their  children  and  governess  must  be  ter- 
rible. Nor  are  clergymen  more  pious  than  other 
men,  yet  they  have  continually  to  pose  before 
their  flock  as  such.  As  for  governesses,  Miss 
Minora,  I  know  what  I  am  saying  when  I  affirm 
that  there  is  nothing  more  intolerable  than  to 
have  to  be  polite,  and  even  humble,  to  persons 
whose  weaknesses  and  follies  are  glaringly  appar- 
ent in  every  word  they  utter,  and  to  be  forced  by 
the  presence  of  children  and  employers  to  a  dig- 
nity of  manner  in  no  ^ay  corresponding  to  one's 
feelings.  The  grave  father  of  a  family,  who  was 
probably  one  of  the  least  respectable  of  bache- 
lors, is  an  interesting  study  at  his  own  table,  where 
he  is  constrained  to  assume  airs  of  infallibility 
merely  because  his  children  are  looking  at  him. 
The  fact  of  his  being  a  parent  does  not  endow 
him  with  any  supreme  and  sudden  virtue  ;  and  I 
can  assure  you  that  among  the  eyes  fixed  upon 
him,  not  the  least  critical  and  amused  are  those 
of  the  humble  person  who  fills  the  post  of  gov- 
erness."' 

'•Ob,   Miss   Jones,   how    lovely!"   we    heard 


If 


x^/r 


r9. 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

Minora  say  in  accents  of  rapture,  while  we  sat 
transfixed  with  horror  at  these  sentiments.  "  Do 
jou  mind  if  I  put  that  down  in  my  book  \  You 
say  it  all  so  beautifully." 

"  "Without  a  few  hours  of  relaxation,"  con- 
tinued Miss  Jones,  "  of  private  indemnification 
for  the  toilsome  virtues  displayed  in  public,  who 
could  wade  through  days  of  correct  behavior  ? 
There  would  be  no  reaction,  no  room  for  better 
impulses,  no  place  for  repentance.  Parents, 
priests,  and  governesses  would  be  in  the  situation 
of  a  stout  lady  who  never  has  a  quiet  moment  in 
which  she  can  take  off  her  corsets." 

"  My  dear,  what  a  firebrand  !  "  whispered  Irais. 

I  got  up  and  went  in.  They  were  sitting  on 
the  sofa.  Minora  with  clasped  hands,  gazing  ad- 
miringly into  Miss  Jones'  face,  which  wore  a 
very  different  expression  from  the  one  of  sour 
and  unwilling  propriety  I  have  been  used  to 
seeing. 

"  May  I  ask  you  to  come  to  tea  ? "  I  said  to 
Minora.  "  And  I  should  like  to  have  the  chil- 
dren a  little  while." 

She  got  up  very  reluctantly,  but  I  waited  with 
the  door  open  until  she  had  gone  in  and  the  two 


^3  ■>^'V^^/'£jii^ 


IS 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

babies  had  followed.  They  had  been  playing  at 
stuffing  each  other's  ears  with  pieces  of  news- 
papers while  Miss  Jones  provided  Minora  with 
noble  thoughts  for  her  work,  and  had  to  be  tor-  f:^ 
tured  afterward  with  tweezers.  I  said  nothing  to 
Minora,  but  kept  her  with  us  till  dinner-time, 
and  this  mornino:  we  went  for  a  lono^  sleig-h- 
drive.  When  we  came  in  to  lunch  there  was  no 
Miss  Jones. 

"  Is  Miss  Jones  ill  ?  "  asked  Minora. 

"  She  is  gone,"  I  said. 

''Gone?"  ^h^] 

"  Did  you  never  hear  of  such  things  as  sick 
mothers  ? "  asked  Irais  blandly ;  and  we  talked 
resolutely  of  something  else. 

All  the  afternoon  Minora  has  moped.  She 
had  found  a  kindred  spirit,  and  it  has  been  ruth-  ^Sj 
lessly  torn  from  her  arms,  as  kindred  spirits  so 
often  are.  It  is  enough  to  make  her  mope,  and 
it  is  not  her  fault,  poor  thing,  that  she  should 
have  preferred  the  society  of  a  Miss  Jones  to 
that  of  Irais  and  myself. 

At  dinner  Irais  surveyed  her  with  her  head  on 
one  side.  "  You  look  so  pale,"  she  said  ;  "  are 
you  not  well  ? " 


o^^' 


1,"^.  "'^^w^ 


TO 


LIVE    IN  PARADISE 

..'iM*'!.,,:,.:; 


\ 


'n 


X 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden, 


Minora  raised  her  eyes  heavily,  ..  with  the 
patient  air  of  one  who  likes  to  be  thought  a  suf- 
ferer. "  I  have  a  slight  headache,"  she  replied 
gently. 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  going  to  be  ill,''  said 
Irais  with  great  concern,  "  because  there  is  only 
a  cow-doctor  to  be  had  here,  and  though  he 
naeans  well  i  believe  he  is  rather  rough." 

Minora  was  plainly  startled.  "'  But  what  do 
you  do  if  you  are  ill  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  we  are  never  ill,"  said  I  ;  "  the  very 
knowledofe  that  there  would  be  no  one  to  cure  us 
seems  to  keep  us  healthy." 

"  And  if  any  one  takes  to  her  bed,"  said  Irais, 
"  Elizabeth  always  calls  in  the  cow-doctor." 

Minora  was  silent.  She  feels,  I  am  sure,  that 
she  has  got  into  a  part  of  the  world  peopled  solely 
by  barbarians,  and  that  the  only  civilized  crea- 
ture besides  herself  has  departed  and  left  her  at 
our  mercy.  Whatever  her  reflections  may  be 
her  symptoms  are  visibly  abating. 

January  1. — The  service  on  Xew  Year's  Eve 
is  the  only  one  in  the  whole  year  that  in  the 
least  impresses  me  in  our  little  church,  and  then 


Mi; 


m 


';    (,  I   .|| 

im 

mill 

:« 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

the  very  bareness  and  ugliness  of  the  place  and 
the  ceremonial  produce  an  effect   that    a    snug 
service  in  a  well-lit  church    never  would.     Last 
^\  night  we  took  Irais   and  Minora,  and  drove  the 

three  lonely  miles  in  a  sleigh.  It  was  pitch- 
dark,  and  blowing  great  guns.  'We  sat  wrapped 
up  to  our  eyes  in  furs,  and  as  mute  as  a  funeral 
procession. 

"  ^e  are  going  to  the  burial  of  our  last  year's 
sins,"  said  Irais,  as  we  started  ;  and  there  certainly 
was  a  funeral  sort  of  feeling  in  the  air.  Up  in  our 
gallery  pew  we  tried  to  decipher  our  chorales  by 
the  light  of  the  spluttering  tallow  candles  stuck  in 
holes  in  the  woodwork,  the  flames  wildly  blown 
about  by  the  draughts.  The  wind  banged  against 
the  windows  in  great  gusts,  screaming  louder  than 
the  organ,  and  threatening  to  blow  out  the  agi- 
tated lights  altogether.  The  parson  in  his  gloomy 
pulpit,  surrounded  by  a  framework  of  dusty  carved 
aTigels,  took  on  an  awful  appearance  of  menacing 
Authority  as  he  raised  his  voice  to  make  himself 
heard  above  the  clatter.  Sitting  there  in  the 
dai'k,  I  felt  very  small,  and  solitary,  and  de- 
fenseless, alone  in  a  great,  big,  black  world.  The 
church  was  as  cold  as  a  tomb  ;  some  of  the  candles 


* 


* 


>»> 


^^ 


r'\ 


vc>^ 


\\f 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

guttered  and  went  out ;  the  parson  in  his  black 
robe  spoke  of  death  and  judgment ;  I  thought  I 
heard  a  child's  voice  screaming,  and  could  hardly 
believe  it  was  only  the  wind,  and  felt  uneasy  and 
full  of  forebodings  ;  all  my  faith  and  philosophy 
deserted  me,  and  I  had  a  horrid  feeling  that  I 
should  probably  be  well  punished,  though  for  what 
I  had  no  precise  idea.  If  it  had  not  been  so  dark, 
and  if  the  wind  had  not  howled  so  despairingly,  I 
should  have  paid  little  attention  to  the  threats 
issuiDg  from  the  pulpit ;  but,  as  it  was,  I  fell  to 
making  good  resolutions.  This  is  always  a  bad 
sign — only  those  who  break  them  make  them  ; 
and  if  you  simply  do  as  a  matter  of  course  that 
which  is  right  as  it  comes,  any  preparatory  resolv- 
ing to  do  so  becomes  completely  superfluous.  1 
have  for  some  years  past  left  off  making  them  on 
New  Year's  Eve,  and  only  the  gale  happening  as 
it  did  reduced  me  to.  doing  so  last  night ;  for  I  have 
long  since  discovered  that,  though  the  year  and 
the  resolutions  may  be  new,  I  myself  am  not,  and 
it  is  worse  than  useless  putting  new  wine  into  old 
bottles. 

"But  I  am  not  an  old  bottle,"'  said  Irais  in- 
dignantly, when  I  held  forth  to  her  to  the  above 


Klizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

effect  a  few  hours  later  in  the  hbrary,  restored  to 
all  my  philosophy  by  the  warmth  and  light,  "  and 
I  find  my  resolutions  carry  me  very  nicely  into 
the  spring.  I  revise  them  at  the  end  of  each 
month,  and  strike  out  the  unnecessary  ones.  By 
the  end  of  April  they  have  been  so  severely  re- 
vised that  there  are  none  left."' 

"  There,  you  see  I  am  right ;  if  you  were  not  an 
old  bottle  your  new  contents  would  gradually  ar- 
range themselves  amiably  as  a  part  of  you,  and 
tlie  practise  of  your  resolutions  would  lose  its 
bitterness  by  becoming  a  habit." 

She  shook  her  head.  "  Such  things  never  lose 
their  bitterness,"  she  said,  "  and  that  is  why  I  don't 
let  them  cling  to  me  right  into  the  summer.  "When 
May  comes  I  give  myself  up  to  jollity  with  all  the 
rest  of  the  world,  and  am  too  busy  being  happy 
to  bother  about  anything  I  may  have  resolved 
when  the  days  were  cold  and  dark." 

.\nd  that  is  just  why  I  love  you,"  I  thought. 
She  often  says  what  I  feel. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  went  on  after  a  pause, "  whether 
men  ever  make  resolutions  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  they  do.     Only  women  indul; 
in  such  luxuries.     It  is  a  nice  sort  of  feeling,  when 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

you  have  nothing  else  to  do,  giving  way  to  endless 
grief  and  penitence,  and  steeping  yourself  to  the 
eyes  in  contrition  ;  but  it  is  silly.  Why  cry  over 
things  that  are  done  ?  Why  do  naughty  things 
at  all,  if  you  are  going  to  repent  afterward? 
Kobody  is  naughty  unless  they  like  being 
naughty  ;  and  nobody  ever  really  repents  unless 
they  are  afraid  they  are  going  to  be  found 
out." 

"  By  '  nobody '  of  course  you  mean  women," 
said  Irais. 

"  IS'aturally ;  the  terms  are  synonymous.  Be- 
sides, men  generally  have  the  courage  of  their 
opinions." 

'- 1  hope  you  are  listening.  Miss  Minora,"  said 
Irais  in  the  amiably  polite  tone  she  assumes  when- 
ever she  speaks  to  that  young  person. 

It  was  getting  on  toward  midnight,  and  we  were 
sitting  round  the  fire,  waiting  for  the  Js^ew  Year, 
and  sipping  G-luhwein,  prepared  at  a  small  table 
by  the  Man  of  Wrath.  It  was  hot,  and  sweet,  and 
rather  nasty,  but  it  is  proper  to  drink  it  on  this 
one  night,  so  of  course  we  did. 

Minora  does  not  like  either  Irais  or  myself.  We 
very  soon  discovered  that,  and  laugh  about  it  when 


v 


i 


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I 


i& 


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k 


i 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

we  are  alone  together.  I  can  understand  her 
disliking  Irais,  but  she  must  be  a  perverse  creature 
not  to  like  me.  Irais  has  poked  fun  at  her.  and  I 
have  been,  I  hope,  very  kind  ;  yet  we  are  bracketed 
together  in  her  black  books.  It  is  also  apparent 
that  she  looks  upon  the  Man  of  TTrath  as  an  in- 
teresting example  of  an  ill-used  and  misunderstood 
husband,  and  she  is  disposed  to  take  him  under 
her  wing  and  defend  him  on  all  occasions  against 
us.  He  never  speaks  to  her  ;  he  is  at  all  times  a 
man  of  few  words,  but,  as  far  as  Minora  is  con- 
cerned, he  might  have  no  tongue  at  all,  and  sits 
sphinx-like  and  impenetrable  while  she  takes  us 
to  task  about  some  remark  of  a  profane  nature 
that  we  may  have  addressed  to  him.  One  night, 
some  days  after  her  arrival,  she  developed  a 
skittishness  of  manner  which  has  since  dis- 
appeared, and  tried  to  be  playful  with  him  ;  but 
you  might  as  well  try  to  be  playful  with  a  graven 
image.  The  wife  of  one  of  the  servants  had  just 
produced  a  boy,  the  first  after  a  series  of  five  dauirh- 
ters,  and  at  dinner  we  drank  the  health  of  all 
parties  concerned,  the  Man  of  '^^rath  making  the 
happy  father  drink  a  glass  off  at  one  gulp,  his 
heels  well  to^rether  in  militarv  fashion.     Minora 


'"■  .:i^*i^^>s 


^V/ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

thought  the  incident  typical  of  German  manners, 
and  not  only  made  notes  about  it,  but  joined 
heartily  in  the  health-drinking,  and  afterward 
grew  skittish. 

She  proposed,  first  of  all,  to  teach  us  a  dance 
called,  I  think,  the  Washington  Post,  and  which 
was,  she  said,  much  danced  in  England;  and, 
to  induce  us  to  learn,  she  played  the  tune  to  us 
on  the  piano.  We  remained  untouched  by  its 
beauties,  each  buried  in  an  easy-chair  toasting 
our  toes  at  the  fire.  Among  those  toes  were 
those  of  the  Man  of  Wrath,  who  sat  peaceably 
reading  a  book  and  smoking.  Minora  volun- 
teered to  show  us  the  steps,  and  as  we  still  did 
not  move,  danced  solitary  behind  our  chairs. 
Irais  did  not  even  turn  her  head  to  look,  and  I 
was  the  only  one  amiable  or  polite  enough  to  do 
so.  Do  I  deserve  to  be  placed  in  Minora's  list 
of  disagreeable  people  side  by  side  with  Irais  ? 
Certainly  not.     Yet  I  most  surely  am. 

"  It  Avants  the  music,  of  course,"  observed 
Minora  breathlessly,  darting  in  and  out  between 
the  chairs,  apparently  addressing  me,  but  glanc- 
ing at  the  Man  of  Wrath. 

No  answer  from  anybody. 


MMM 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 
*'  It  is  such  a  pretty  dance,"  she  panted  again, 
after  a  few  more  gyrations. 
Xo  answer. 

"  And  is  all  the  rage  at  home." 
Iso  answer. 
«'  Do  let  me  teach  you.     Won't  you  try,  Herr 

Sage \ " 

She  went  up  to  him  and  dropped  him  a  little 
courtesy.  It  is  thus  she  always  addresses  him, 
entirely  oblivious  to  the  fact,  so  patent  to  every 
one  else,  that  he  resents  it. 

'•  Oh,  come,  put  away  that  tiresome  old  book," 
she  went  on  gaily,  as  he  did  not  move ;  "  I  am 
certain  it  is  only  some  dry  agricultural  work  that 
you  just  nod  over.     Dancing  is  much  better  for 

you." 

Irais  and  I  looked  at  one  another  quite  fright- 
ened. I  am  sure  we  both  turned  pale  when  the 
unhappy  girl  actually  laid  hold  forcibly  of  his 
book,  and,  with  a  playful  little  shriek,  ran  away 
with  it  into  the  next  room,  hugging  it  to  her 
bosom  and  looking  back  roguishly  over  her 
shoulder  at  him  as  she  ran.  There  was  an  awful 
pause.  We  hardly  dared  raise  our  eyes.  Then 
the  Man  of  Wrath  got  up  slowl 


..^w- 


knocked  the 


^X^^-* 


.^a 


J 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

ashes  off  the  end  of  bis  cigar,  looked  at  his  watch, 
and  ^Yent  out  at  the  opposite  door  into  his  own 
rooms,  where  he  stayed  for  the  rest  of  the  eve- 
ning. She  has  never,  I  must  say,  been  skittish 
since. 

"  I  hope  you  are  listening,  Miss  Minora,"  said 
Irais,  ^  because  this  sort  of  conversation  is  likely 
to  do  you  good." 

''  I  always  listen  when  people  talk  sensibly," 
replied  Minora,  stirring  her  grog. 

Irais  glanced  at  her  with  slightly  doubtful  eye- 
brows. "  Do  you  agree  with  our  hostess'  descrip- 
tion of  women  ?  "  she  asked  after  a  pause. 

"  As  nobodies  ?     No,  of  course  I  do  not." 

^'  Yet  she  is  right.  In  the  eye  of  the  law  we 
are  literally  nobodies  in  our  country.  Did  you 
know  that  women  are  forbidden  to  go  to  political 
meetings  here  ? " 

*'  Eeally  ?  "     Out  came  the  notebook. 

"  The  law  expressly  forbids  the  attendance  at 
such  meetings  of  women,  children,  and  idiots." 

''  Children  and  idiots — I  understand  that,"  said 
Minora  ;  "  but  women — and  classed  with  children 
and  idiots  ?  " 

"  Classed  with  children  and  idiots,"  repeated 


•r 


C 


^. 


v^ 


%:: 


^*=:3 


^'"^      Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


Js{y^  Irais,   gravely   nodding   her   head.      "Did   you     . 

.y''^?;J  know  that  the  law  forbids  females  of  any  age  to    :■ 

-t^^^y.  ^^^  ^^  ^^^®  ^^P  ^^  omnibuses  or  tramcars  ?  " 
^Mf]       "  ^"ot  really  ?  " 
^^^,  ^'Y        "  Do  you  know  why  i  " 
/-J        "  I  can't  imagine." 
N^^        "Because  in  going  up   and   down   the   stairs 


i'/\ 


% 


l^\v  those  inside  might  perhaps  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
stocking  covering  their  ankles." 

"  But  what '' 

"  Did  you  know  that  the  morals  of  the  German 
public  are  in  such  a  shaky  condition  that  a 
glimpse  of  that  sort  would  be  fatal  to  them  ?  " 

"  But  I  don't  see  how  a  stocking " 

"  With  stripes  round  it,*'  said  Irais. 

"  And  darns  in  it,"  I  added. 

"  — could  possibly  be  pernicious  ?  " 

"  *  The  Pernicious  Stocking ;  or,  Thoughts  on 
the  Ethics  of  Petticoats,'  "  said  Irais.  "  Put  that 
down  as  the  name  of  your  next  book  on  Ger- 
many." 

"  I  never  know,"  complained  Minora,  letting 
her  notebook  fall,  "  whether  you  are  in  earnest 
or  not." 

''  Don't  you  ? "  said  Irais  sweetly. 


l^^'-^.-i^'.'P' 

; 

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■^''% 


V....' 


"  Is  it  true,"  appealed  Minora  to  the  Mau  of 
Wrath,  busy  with  his  lemons  in  the  background, 
"  that  your  law  classes  women  with  children  and 
idiots  ? " 

"  Certainly,"  he  answered  promptly,  "  and  a 
very  proper  classification  too." 

We  all  looked  blank.  "  That's  rude,"  said  I 
at  last. 

"  Truth  is  always  rude,  my  dear,"  he  replied 
complacently.  Then  he  added,  "  If  I  were  com- 
missioned to  draw  up  a  new  legal  code,  and  had 
previously  enjoyed  the  privilege,  as  I  have  been 
doing  lately,  of  listening  to  the  conversation  of 
you  three  young  ladies,  I  should  make  precisely 
the  same  classification." 

Even  Minora  was  incensed  at  this. 

"  You  are  telling  us  in  the  most  unvarnished 
manner  that  we  are  idiots,"  said  Irais. 

"  Idiots  ?  Xo,  no,  by  no  means.  But  children 
— nice  little  agreeable  children.  I  very  much 
like  to  hear  you  talk  together.  It  is  all  so  young 
and  fresh  what  you  think  and  what  you  be- 
lieve, and  not  of  the  least  consequence  to  any 
one." 

"  Not  of  the  least  consequence  ? "  cried  Minora. 


^. 


<f 


-y   "  What  we  believe  is  of  very  great  consequence 
indeed  to  us." 

"  Are  you  jeering  at  our  beliefs  ?  "   inquired 
Irais  sternly. 

"  Xot  for  worlds.     I  would  not  on  any  account 

y      disturb  or  change  your  pretty  little  beliefs.     It 

is  your  chief  charm   that  you   always   believe 

everything.     How  desperate  would  our  case  be 

[    ^  if  young  ladies  only  believed  facts,  and  never  ac- 

l_^  cepted  another  person's  assurance,  but  preferred 

the   evidence  of  their  own  eyes !     They  would 

^  .   have  no  illusions,  and  a  woman  without  illusions 

>' .  is  the  dreariest  and  most  difficult  thing  to  manage 

A  possible." 

"  Thing  ?  "  protested  Irais. 
The  Man  of  Wrath,  usually  so  silent,  makes 
Jji     up  for  it  from  time  to  time  by  holding  forth  at 
'''^'       unnecessary  length.     He  took  up  his  stand  now 
-^  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  and  a  glass  of  Gluh- 
wein  in  his  hand.     Minora  had  hardly  heard  his 
voice  before,  so  quiet  has  he  been  since  she  came, 
<J^   and  sat  with  her  pencil  raised,  ready  to  fix  for- 
ever the  wisdom  that  should  flow  from  his  lips. 

"  What  would  become  of  poetry  if  women  be- 
came so  sensible  that  they  turned  a  deaf  ear  to 


•P 


^^^::^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

the  poetic  platitudes  of  love?  That  love  does 
indulge  in  platitudes  I  suppose  you  will  admit." 
He  looked  at  Irais. 

''Yes,  they  all  say  exactly  the  same  thing," 
she  acknowledged. 

"  Who  could  murmur  pretty  speeches  on  the 
beauty  of  a  common  sacrifice,  if  the  listener's 
want  of  imagination  was  such  as  to  enable  her 
only  to  distinguish  one  victim  in  the  picture,  and 
that  one  herself  ?  " 

Minora  took  that  down  word  for  word — much 
good  may  it  do  her. 

"  Who  would  be  brave  enough  to  affirm  that  if 
refused  he  will  die,  if  his  assurances  merely  elicit 
a  recommendation  to  diet  himself  and  take  plenty 
of  outdoor  exercise  ?  "Women  are  responsible  for 
such  lies,  because  they  believe  them.  Their 
amazing  vanity  makes  them  swallow  flattery  so 
gross  that  it  is  an  insult,  and  men  will  always  be 
ready  to  tell  the  precise  number  of  lies  that  a 
woman  is  ready  to  listen  to.  Who  indulges  more 
recklessly  in  glowing  exaggerations  than  the 
lover  who  hopes,  and  has  not  yet  obtained  ?  He 
will,  like  the  nightingale,  sing  with  unceasing 
modulations,   display   all   his    talent,   untiringly 


i  w^-  i", 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


repeat  his  sweetest  notes,  until  he  has  what  he 
wants,  w^hen  his  song,  like  the  nightingale's,  im- 
mediately ceases,  never  again  to  be  heard." 

"  Take  that  down,"  murmured  Irais  aside  to 
Minora — unnecessary  advice,  for  her  pencil  was 
scribbling  as  fast  as  it  could. 

"A  woman's  vanity  is  so  immeasurable  that, 
after  having  had  ninety-nine  object-lessons  in 
the  difference  between  promise  and  performance 
and  the  emptiness  of  pretty  speeches,  the  begin- 
ning of  the  hundredth  will  find  her  lending  the 
same  willing  and  enchanted  ear  to  the  eloquence 
of  flattery  as  she  did  on  the  occasion  of  the  first. 
What  can  the  exhortations  of  the  strong-minded 
sister,  who  has  never  had  these  experiences,  do 
for  such  a  woman  ?  It  is  useless  to  tell  her  she  is 
man's  victim,  that  she  is  his  plaything,  that  she 
is  cheated,  downtrodden,  kept  under,  laughed  at, 
shabbily  treated  in  every  way — that  is  not  a  true 
statement  of  the  case.  She  is  simply  the  victim 
of  her  own  vanity,  and  against  that,  against  the 
belief  in  her  own  fascinations,  against  the  very 
part  of  herself  that  gives  all  the  color  to  her  life, 
who  shall  expect  a  woman  to  take  up  arms  ? " 
''Are  you  so  vain,  Elizabeth  ? "  inquired  Irais 


,Mi  I 


1 


l,:^!!&^ 


n0' 


Sr^*^ 


'M^^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


with  a  shocked  face,  '•  and  had  you  lent  a  willing 
ear  to  the  blandishments  of  ninety-nine  before 
you  reached  your  final  destiny  ?  " 

"  I  am  one  of  the  sensible  ones,  I  suppose,"  I 
replied,  "  for  nobody  ever  wanted  me  to  listen  to 
blandishments." 

Minora  sighed. 

"  I  like  to  hear  you  talk  together  about  the 
position  of  women,''  he  went  on,  "and  wonder 
when  you  will  realize  that  they  hold  exactly  the 
position  they  are  fitted  for.  As  soon  as  they 
are  fit  to  occupy  a  better,  no  power  on  earth  will 
be  able  to  keep  them  out  of  it.  Meanwhile,  let 
me  warn  you  that,  as  things  now  are,  only  strong- 
minded  women  wish  to  see  you  the  equals  of  men, 
and  the  strong-minded  are  invariably  plain.  The 
pretty  ones  would  rather  see  men  their  slaves 
than  their  equals." 

"  You  know,"  said  Irais,  frowning,  "  that  I  con- 
sider myself  strong-minded." 

"  And  never  rise  till  lunch-time  ? " 

Irais  blushed.  Although  I  don't  approve  of 
such  conduct,  it  is  very  convenient  in  more  ways 
than  one  ;  I  get  through  my  housekeeping  undis- 
turbed, and,  whenever  she  is  disposed  to  lecture 


^   '. 


w^ 


<A 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

me,  I  begin  about  this  habit  of  hers.  Her  con- 
science must  be  terribly  stricken  on  the  point,  for 
she  is  by  no  means  as  a  rule  given  to  meek- 
ness. 

"  A  woman  without  vanity  vrould  be  unattack- 
able,"  resumed  the  Man  of  Wrath.  "  When  a  girl 
enters  that  downward  path  that  leads  to  ruin, 
she  is  led  solely  by  her  own  vanity  ;  for  in  these 
days  of  policemen  no  young  woman  can  be 
forced  against  her  will  from  the  path  of  virtue, 
and  the  cries  of  the  injured  are  never  heard  until 
the  destroyed  begins  to  express  his  penitence  for 
having  destroyer.  If  his  passion  could  remain  at 
white-heat  and  he  could  continue  to  feed  her  ear 
with  the  protestations  she  loves,  no  principles  of 
piety  or  virtue  would  disturb  the  happiness  of  his 
companion  ;  for  a  mournful  experience  teaches 
that  piety  begins  only  where  passion  ends,  and 
that  principles  are  strongest  where  temptations 
are  most  rare." 

"  But  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  us  ? "  I  in- 
quired severely. 

"  You  are  displeased  at  our  law  classing  you  as 
it  does,  and  I  merely  wish  to  justify  it,"  he  an- 
swered.    "  Creatures  who  habitually  say  yes  to 


If 


Y§ 


■■^ 


\v 


^^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

everything  a  man  proposes,  when  it  is  so  often 
fatal,  are  plainly  not  responsible  beings." 

"  I  shall  never  say  it  to  you  again,  my  dear 
man,"  I  said, 

"  And  not  only  that  fatal  weakness,"  he  contin- 
ued, "  but  what  is  there,  candidly,  to  distinguish 
you  from  children  ?  You  are  older,  but  not  wiser 
— really  not  so  wise,  for  with  years  you  lose  the 
common  sense  you  had  as  children.  Have  you 
ever  heard  a  group  of  women  talking  reasonably 
together  ? " 

''  Yes — we  do ! "  Irais  and  I  cried  in  a 
breath. 

"  It  has  interested  me,"  went  on  the  Man  of 
Wrath,  "  in  my  idle  moments,  to  listen  to  their 
talk.  It  amused  me  to  hear  the  malicious  little 
stories  they  told  to  their  best  friends  who  were 
absent,  to  note  the  spiteful  little  digs  they  gave 
their  best  friends  who  were  present,  to  watch  the 
utter  incredulity  with  which  they  listened  to  the 
tale  of  some  other  woman's  conquests,  the  radiant 
good  faith  they  displayed  in  connection  with 
their  own,  the  instant  collapse  into  boredom  if 
some  topic  of  so-called  general  interest,  by  some 
extraordinary  chance,  were  introduced." 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

«  You  must  have  belonged  to  a  particularly 
nice  set,"  remarked  Irais. 

"And  as  for  politics,"  he  said,  "  I  have  never 
heard  them  mentioned  among  women." 

^'  Children  and  idiots  are  not  interested  in  such 
things,"  I  said.  ^^^^  , 

"  And  we  are  much  too  frightened  of  being  put    ^^^ 

in  prison,"  said  Irais  ^    ^ 


\ 


"  In  prison?  "  echoed  Minora. 


"Don't  you  know,"  said  Irais,  turning  to  her,     *^a4 


"  that  if  you  talk  about  such  things  here  you  run    \ 


a  great  risk  of  being  imprisoned  ? " 

"  But  why  \ " 

"But  why?  Cecause,  though  you  yourself 
may  have  meant  nothing  but  what  was  innocent, 
your  words  may  have  suggested  something  less 
innocent  to  the  evil  minds  of  your  hearers;  and 
then  the  law  steps  in,  and  calls  it  dolus  eventualis, 
and  everybody  says  how  dreadful,  and  off  you 
go  to  prison  and  are  punished  as  you  deserve  to 

be." 

Mincw-a  looked  mystified. 

"  That  is  not,  however,  your  real  reason  for 
not  discussing  them,"  said  the  Man  of  Wrath ; 
"  they  simply  do  not  interest  you.     Or  it  may 


^  \ 


1 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

be  that  you  do  not  consider  your  female  friends' 
opinions  worth  listening  to,  for  you  certainly 
display  an  astonishing  thirst  for  information 
when  male  politicians  are  present.  I  have  seen 
a  pretty  young  woman,  hardly  in  her  twenties, 
sitting  a  whole  evening  drinking  in  the  doubtful 
wisdom  of  an  elderly  political  star,  with  every 
appearance  of  eager  interest.  He  was  a  bimet- 
allic star,  and  was  giving  her  whole  pamphlets 
full  of  information." 

"  She  wanted  to  make  up  to  him  for  some 
reason,'*  said  Irais,  "  and  got  him  to  explain  his 
hobby  to  her,  and  he  was  siUy  enough  to  be 
taken  in.  Now,  which  was  the  sillier  in  that 
case  ? '' 

She  threw  herself  back  in  her  chair  and  looked 
up  defiantly,  beating  her  foot  impatiently  on  the 
carpet. 

"  She  wanted  to  be  thought  clever,*'  said  the 
Man  of  Wrath.  "  What  puzzled  me,"  he  went 
on  musingly,  "  was  that  she  went  away  appar- 
ently as  serene  and  happy  as  when  she  came. 
The  explanation  of  the  principles  of  bimetallism 
produce,  as  a  rule,  a  contrary  effect." 

'^  Why,  she  hadn't  been  listening,"  cried  Irais, 


^      II    'y  f/y 


J\iiy.    -4 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

"  and  your  simple  star  had  been  making  a  fine 
goose  of  himself  the  whole  evening. 

"  Prattle,  prattle,  simple  star, 
Bimetallic,  wunderbar. 
Though  you're  given  to  describe 
"Woman  as  a  dummes  "Weib, 
You  yourself  are  sillier  far, 
Prattling,  bimetallic  star  !  " 

"  Xo  doubt  she  had  understood  very  little," 
said  the  Man  of  Wrath,  taking  no  notice  of  this 
effusion. 

"  And  no  doubt  the  gentleman  hadn't  under- 
stood much  either.''     Irais  was  plainly  irritated. 

"  Your  opinion  of  women,"  said  Minora  in  a 
very  small  voice,  "  is  not  a  high  one.  But,  in  the 
sick  chamber,  I  suppose  you  agree  that  no  one 
could  take  her  place  i " 

''  If  you  are  thinking  of  hospital  nurses,"  I 
said,  "  I  must  tell  you  that  I  believe  he  married 
chiefly  that  he  might  have  a  wife  instead  of  a 
strange  woman  to  nurse  him  when  he  is  sick." 

*'  But,"  said  Minora,  bewildered  at  the  way  her 
illusions  were  being  knocked  about,  '•  the  sick- 
room is  surely  the  very  place  of  all  others  in 
which  a  woman's  gentleness  and  tact  are  most 
valuable." 


* 


\  .^n 


^\ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  Geiman  Garden. 

*'  Gentleness  and  tact  %  "  repeated  the  Man  of 
Wrath.  "  I  have  never  met  those  qualities  in  the 
professional  nurse.  According  to  my  experience, 
she  is  a  disagreeable  person  who  finds  in  private 
nursing  exquisite  opportunities  for  asserting  her 
superiority  over  ordinary  and  prostrate  mankind. 
I  know  of  no  more  humiliating  position  for  a 
man  than  to  be  in  bed  having  his  feverish  brow 
soothed  by  a  sprucely  dressed  strange  woman, 
bristling  with  starch  and  spotlessness.  He  would 
give  have  half  his  income  for  his  clothes,  and 
probably  the  other  half  if  she  would  leave  him 
alone,  and  o^o  awav  altoo^ether.  He  feels  her 
superiority  through  every  pore  ;  he  never  realized 
how  absolutely  inferior  he  is ;  he  is  abjectly 
polite,  and  contemptibly  conciliatory  ;  if  a  friend 
comes  to  see  him,  he  eagerh^  praises  her  in  case 
she  should  be  listening  behind  the  screen ;  he 
cannot  call  his  soul  his  own,  and,  what  is  far 
more  intolerable,  neither  is  he  sure  that  his  body 
really  belongs  to  him ;  he  has  read  of  minister- 
ing angels  and  the  light  touch  of  a  woman's 
hand,  but  the  day  on  which  he  can  ring  for  his 
servant  and  put  on  his  socks  in  private  fills  him 
with  the  same  sort  of  wildness  of   joy  that  he 


^^^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden, 
felt  as  a  homesick  schoolboy  at  the  end  of  his 
first  term." 

Minora  was  silent.  Irais'  foot  was  livelier  than 
ever.  The  Man  of  Wrath  stood  smiling  blandly 
upon  us.  You  can't  argue  with  a  person  so 
utterly  convinced  of  his  infaUibility  that  he  won't 
even  get  angry  with  you  ;  so  we  sat  round  and 

said  nothing. 

"  If,"  he  went  on,  addressing  Irais,  who  looked 
rebellious,  "  you  doubt  the  truth  of  my  remarks, 
^i    and  still  cling  to  the  old  poetic  notion  of  noble, 
^^    self-sacrificing    women     tenderly     helping     the 
patient  over  the  rough   places  on  the  road  to 
death  or  recovery,  let  me  beg  you  to  try  for 
yourself,  next  time  any  one  in  your  house  is  ill, 
whether  the  actual  fact  in  any  way  corresponds 
to  the  picturesque  belief.     The  angel  who  is  to 
alleviate  our  sufferings  comes  in  such  a  question- 
able  shape,  that  to  the  unimaginative  she  appears 
merely    as    an  extremely   self-confident    young 
woman,  wisely  concerned  first  of  all  in  securing 
her  personal  comfort,  much  given  to  complaints 
about  her  food  and  to  helplessness  where   she 
should  be  helpful,  possessing  an  extraordinary 
capacitv  for  fancying  herself  slighted,  or  not  re 


:'\ 


u.7i 


J 


v\\ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


garded  as  the  superior  being  she  knows  herself 
to  be,  morbidly  anxious  lest  the  servant  should, 
by  some  mistake,  treat  her  with  offensive  cor- 
diality, pettish  if  the  patient  gives  more  trouble 
than  she  had  expected,  intensely  injured  and  dis- 
agreeable if  he  is  made  so  courageous  by  his 
wretchedness  as  to  wake  her  during  the  night — 
an  act  of  desperation  of  which  I  was  guilty  once, 
and  once  only.  Oh,  these  good  women !  What 
sane  man  wants  to  have  to  do  with  angels  ?  And 
especially  do  we  object  to  having  them  about  us 
when  we  are  sick  and  sorry,  when  we  feel  in 
every  fiber  what  poor  things  we  are,  and  when 
all  our  fortitude  is  needed  to  enable  us  to  bear 
our  temporary  inferiority  patiently,  without  be- 
ing forced  besides  to  assume  an  attitude  of  eager 
and  groveling  politeness  toward  the  angel  in  the 
house." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  could  talk  so  much.  Sage," 
said  Irais  at  length. 

"  What  would  you  have  women  do  then  ? " 
asked  Minora  meekly.  Irais  began  to  beat  her 
foot  up  and  down  again — Avhat  did  it  matter 
what  Men  of  Wrath  would  have  us  do  ?     *'  There 


1 


/ 


|r 


.X 


A 


C- 


H  I  \ 


i 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


are  not,''  continued  Minora,  blushing,  '•  husbands 
enough  for  every  one,  and  the  rest  must  do  some- 
thing." 

'•  Certainly,'-  replied  the  oracle.  "  Study  the 
art  of  pleasing  by  dress  and  manner  as  long  as 
you  are  of  an  age  to  interest  us,  and  above  all, 
let  all  women,  pretty  and  plain,  married  and 
single,  study  the  art  of  cookery.  If  you  are  an 
artist  in  the  kitchen  you  will  always  be  es- 
teemed." 

I  sat  very  still.  Every  German  woman,  even 
the  wayward  Irais,  has  learned  to  cook  ;  1  seem 
to  have  been  the  only  one  who  was  naughty 
and  wouldn't. 

"  Onlv  be  careful  ' 


he  went  on,  '•'  in 


studying 


both  arts,  never  to  forget  the  great  truth  that 
dinner  precedes  blandishments  and  not  blandish- 
ments dinner.  A  man  must  be  made  comfort- 
able before  he  will  make  love  to  you  ;  and  though 
it  is  true  that  if  you  offered  him  a  choice  between 
Spickga7is  and  kisses,  he  would  say  he  would 
'take  both,  yet  he  would  invariably  begin  with 
the  SpicJcgaiis^  and  allow  the  kisses  to  wait." 

At  this  I  got  up,  and  Irais  followed  my  example. 
"  Your  cynicism  is  disgusting,"  I  said  icily. 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

"You  two  are  always  exceptions  to  anvthino- 
Ks^^s^^^^    I  may  say,"  he  said  smiling,  amiably. 
^'^'vt^^^m.        ^®   stooped    and   kissed    Irais'    hand.     She  is 
,/i/^     inordinately  vain  of  her  hands,  and  says  her  hus- 
band married  her   for    their  sake,  which  I   can 
quite  believe.     I  am   glad  they  are  on  her  and 
not  on   Minora,  for  if  Minora  had  had  them  ;i 
m.     ■    should  have  been  annoyed.     Minora's  are  bony, 
ill    "^^^^  chilly-looking  knuckles,  ignored  nails,  and 
■jr'    too  much  vrrist.     I  feel  very  well  disposed  toward 
\'^^'^-^\/<,    her  when  my  eye  falls  on  them.     She  put  one  for- 
ward now,  evidently  thinking  it  would  be   kissed 
too. 

"  Did  you  know,"  said  Irais,  seeing  the  move- 
ment, *'  that  it  is  the  custom  here  to  kiss  women's 
hands?" 

"But  only  married  women's,"  I  added,  not 
desiring  her  to  feel  out  of  it,  "  never  young 
girls." 

She  drew  it  in  again.  "  It  is  a  pretty  custom," 
she  said  with  a  sigh  ;  and  pensively  inscribed  it 
in  her  book. 

January  15. — The  bills  for  my  roses  and  bulbs 
and  other  last  year's    horticultural  indulgences 


ri'W. 


(: 


^ 


c 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


were  all  on  the  table  whon  I  came  down  to 
breakfast  this  morning.  They  rather  frightened 
me.  Gardening  is  expensive,  I  find,  when  it  has 
to  be  paid  for  out  of  one's  own  private  pin-money. 
The  Man  of  "V^rath  does  not  in  the  least  want 
roses,  or  flowering  shrubs,  or  plantations,  or  new 
paths,  and  therefore,  he  asks,  why  should  he  pay 
for  them  ?  So  he  does  not  and  I  do,  and  I  have 
to  make  up  for  it  by  not  indulging  all  too  riot- 
ously in  new  clothes,  which  is  no  doubt  very  chast- 
ening. I  certainly  prefer  buying  new  rose  trees 
to  new  dresses,  if  I  cannot  comfortably  have 
both  ;  and  I  see  a  time  coming  when  the  passion 
for  my  garden  will  have  taken  such  a  hold  on  me 
that  I  shall  not  onlv  entirelv  cease  buvinof  more 
clothes,  but  begin  to  sell  those  that  I  alreadv 
have.  The  garden  is  so  big  that  everything  has 
to  be  bought  wholesale ;  and  I  fear  I  shall  not  be 
able  to  go  on  much  longer  with  only  one  man  and 
a  stork,  because  the  more  I  plant  the  more  there 
will  be  to  water  in  the  inevitable  drought,  and 
the  watering  is  a  serious  consideration  when  it 
means  going  backward  and  forward  all  day  long 
to  a  pump  near  the  house,  with  a  little  water- 
cart.     People  living  in  England,  in  almost  per- 


Hi>x^ 


1\ 


f 


^^$^'^  ^f/^c^^j  ...  w . ;-4y 

r.'.|V^^  /';:'-^;^^'  Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

^••^v>/^;l^^:     petual  mildness  and  moisture,  don't  really  know 

cv'v^lr../"'    ^li'^t  a  drought  is.     If  they  have  some  vreeks  of 
^  .  .^IS'-.'^>/^    cloudless  weather,  it   is  generally  preceded  and 

:  ^...  x\,>^  . .  followed  by  good  rains  ;  but  we  have  perhaps  an 
hour's  shower  every  week,  and  then  comes  a 
month  or  six  weeks'  drought.  The  soil  is  verv 
light,  and  dries  so  quickly  that,  after  the  heaviest 
thunder-shower,  I  can  walk  over  any  of  my 
paths  in  my  thin  shoes  ;  and  to  keep  the  garden 
even  moderately  damp  it  should  pour  with  rain 
regularly  every  day  for  three  hours.  My  only 
means  of  getting  water  is  to  go  to  the  pump  near 
the  house,  or  to  the  little  stream  that  forms  my 
eastern  boundary,  and  the  little  stream  dries  up 
too  unless  there  has  been  rain,  and  it  is  at  the 
'<  '^W-  '0M    ^^^^  ^^   ^^™^^   diflacult  to   get  at,  having  steep 

'")/'|*'^fjp^^^^^        banks  covered   with   forget-me-nots.      I   possess 

one  moist,  peaty  bit  of  ground,  and  that  is  to  be 

planted  with  silver   birches  in  imitation  of  the 

Hirschwald,  and  is  to  be  carpeted  between  the 

birches  with  flaming  azaleas.     All  the  rest  of  my 

•'•^^\  aV    soil  is  sandy— the  soil  for  pines  and  acacias,  but 

^'^^■*"f,j/i|    "o^  the  soil  for  roses  ;  yet  see  what  love  will  do 

Ml   — there  are  more  roses  in  mv  warden  than  anv 

'   ■ ')ij.//  lift    ^^        flower  !     Xext  spring  the  bare  places  are 


Hlh: 


■•;•'«.'■:; 


''^\';', 

•»>>'/ 


''uk'V- 


'i^% 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

to  be  filled  with  trees  that  I  have  ordered  ; 
pines  behind  the  delicate  acacias  and  startling 
mountain-ashes,  oaks,  copper-beeches,  maples, 
larches,  juniper  trees — was  it  not  Elijah  who  sat 
down  to  rest  under  a  juniper  tree  ?  I  have  often 
wondered  how  he  managed  to  get  under  it.  It  is 
a  compact  little  tree,  not  more  than  two  or  three 
yards  high  here,  and  all  closely  squeezed  up  to- 
gether. Perhaps  they  grew  more  aggressively 
where  he  was.  By  the  time  the  babies  have 
grown  old  and  disagreeable  it  will  be  very  pretty 
here,  and  then  possibly  they  won't  like  it  ;  and, 
if  they  have  inherited  the  Man  of  Wrath's  indif- 
ference to  gardens,  they  will  let  it  run  wild  and 
leave  it  to  return  to  the  state  in  which  I  found  it. 
Or  perhaps  their  three  husbands  will  refuse  to 
live  in  it,  or  to  come  to  such  a  lonely  place  at 
all,  and  then  of  course  its  fate  is  sealed.  My  only 
comfort  is  that  husbands  don't  flourish  in  the 
desert,  and  that  the  three  will  have  to  wait  a  long 
time  before  enough  are  found  to  go  round. 
Mothers  tell  me  that  it  is  a  dreadful  business 
finding  one  husband;  how  much  more  painful, 
then,  to  have  to  look  for  three  at  once  I — the 
babies  are  so  nearly  the  same  ao;e  that  they  only 


m 


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^^-v 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

just  escaped  being  twins.  But  I  won't  look.  I 
can  imagine  nothing  more  uncomfortable  than  a 
son-in-law,  and  besides,  I  don't  think  a  husband 
is  at  all  a  good  thing  for  a  girl  to  have.  I  shall 
do  my  best  in  the  years  at  my  disposal  to  train 
them  so  to  love  the  garden,  and  outdoor  life,  and 
even  farming,  that,  if  they  have  a  spark  of  their 
mother  in  them,  they  will  want  and  ask  for  noth- 
ing better.  My  hope  of  success  is,  however,  ex- 
ceedingly small,  and  there  is  probably  a  fearful 
period  in  store  forme  when  I  shall  be  taken  every 
day  during  the  winter  to  the  distant  towns  to 
balls — a  poor  old  mother  shivering  in  broad  day- 
light in  her  party  gown,  and  being  made  to  start 
after  an  early  lunch  and  not  getting  home  till 
breakfast  time  next  morning.  Indeed,  they  have 
already  developed  an  alarming  desire  to  go  to 
"  partings "  as  they  call  them,  the  April  baby 
announcing  her  intention  of  beginning  to  do  so 
when  she  is  twelve.  "  Are  you  twelve.  Mummy  ? " 
she  asked. 

The  gardener  is  leaving  on  the  first  of  April, 
and  I  am  trying  to  find  another.  It  is  grievous 
changing  so  often — in  two  years  I  shaU  have 
had  three — because  at  each  change  a  great  part 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


t 


of  my  plants  and  plans  necessarily  suffers. 
Seeds  get  lost,  seedlings  are  not  pricked  out  in 
time,  places  already  sown  are  planted  with  some- 
thing else,  and  there  is  confusion  out  of  doors  and 
despair  in  my  heart.  But  he  was  to  have  mar- 
ried the  cook,  and  the  cook  saw  a  ghost  and  im- 
mediately left,  and  he  is  going  after  her  as  soon 
as  he  can,  and  meanwhile  is  wasting  visibly  away. 
What  she  saw  was  doors  that  are  locked  opening 
with  a  great  clatter  all  by  themselves  on  the  hinge- 
side^  and  then  somebody  invisible  cursed  at  her. 
These  phenomena  now  go  by  the  name  of  "  the 
ghost."  She  asked  to  be  allowed  to  leave  at 
once,  as  she  had  never  been  in  a  place  where  there 
was  a  ghost  before.  I  suggested  that  she  should 
try  and  get  used  to  it ;  but  she  thought  it  would 
be  wasting  time,  and  she  looked  so  ill  that  I  let 
her  go,  and  the  garden  has  to  suffer.  I  don't 
know  why  it  should  be  given  to  cooks  to  see 
such  interesting  things  and  withheld  from  me, 
but  I  have  had  two  others  since  she  left,  and  they 
both  have  seen  the  ghost.  Minora  grows  very 
silent  as  bedtime  approaches,  and  relents  toward 
Irais  and  myself  ;  and,  after  having  shown  us  all 
day  how  little  she  approves  us,  when  the  bedroom 


T 


Her  German  Garden. 

candles  are  brought  she  quite  begins  to  cling. 
She  has  once  or  twice  anxiously  inquired  whether 
Irais  is  sure  she  does  not  object  to  sleeping  alone. 
"  If  you  are  at  all  nervous  I  will  come  and 
keep  you  company,"  she  said ;  "  I  don't  mind  at 
all,  I  assure  you." 

But  Irais  is  not  to  be  taken  in  by  such  simple 
wiles,  and  has  told  me  she  would  rather  sleep 
fe. J"'!;-^.',^-^  with  fifty  ghosts  than  with  one  Minora. 

*"  Since  Miss  Jones  was  so  unexpectedly  called 

away  to  her  parent's  bedside  I  have  seen  a  good 

deal  of  the  babies ;  and  it  is  so  nice  without  a 

governess  that  I  would  put  off  engaging  another 

for  a  year  or  two,  if  it  were  not  that  I  should  in 

so  doing  come  within  the  reach  of  the  arm  of  the 

\V^^^  law,  which  is  what  every  German  spends  his  life 

/l*.^  in  trying  to  avoid.     The  April  baby  will  be  six 

next    month,  and,  after  her    sixth    birthday    is 

'^ii'  passed,  we  are  liable  at  any  moment  to  receive  a 

visit  from  a  school  inspector,  who  will  inquire 

curiously  into  the  state  of  her  education,  and,  if 

•-   it  is  not  up  to  the  required  standard,  all  sorts  of 

:  fearful  things  might  happen  to  the  guilty  parents, 

probably    beginning    with    fines,   and  going  on 

crescendo  to  dungeons  if,  owing  to  gaps  between 


^ 


h. 


W-:i^F 


/j 


% 


^'^ 


governesses  and  diflBculties  in  finding  the  right 
one,  we  persisted  in  our  evil  courses.  Shades  of 
the  prison-house  begin  to  close  here  upon  the 
growing  boy,  and  prisons  compass  the  Teuton 
about  on  every  side  all  through  life  to  such  an  ex- 
tent that  he  has  to  walk  very  delicately  indeed, 
if  he  would  stay  outside  them  and  pay  for  their 
maintenance.  Cultured  individuals  do  not,  as  a 
rule,  neglect  to  teach  their  offspring  to  read,  and 
write,  and  say  their  prayers,  and  are  apt  to  resent 
the  intrusion  of  an  examining  inspector  into  their 
/^    homes ;  but  it  does  not  much  matter  after  all,  and 

I  dare  say  it  is  very  good  for  us  to  be  worried  ;  ^>: 
indeed,  a  philosopher  of  my  acquaintance  declares 
that  people  who  are  not  regularly  and  properly 
worried  are  never  any  good  for  anything.  In  the 
eye  of  the  law  we  are  all  sinners,  and  every  man 
is  held  to  be  guilty  until  he  has  proved  that  he  is 
innocent. 

Minora  has  seen  so  much  of  the  babies  that, 
after  vainly  trying  to  get  out  of  their  way  for 
several  days,  she  thought  it  better  to  resign  her- 
self, and  make  the  best  of  it  by  regarding  them 
as  copy,  and  using  them  to  fill  a  chapter  in  her  p 
book.     So  she  took  to   dogging   their  footsteps    h 


/:^v^/ 


'-'f  .<^ii^-'^ 


A 


EK: 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


wherever  tbey  went,  attended  their  uprisings 
and  their  lyings  down,  engaged  them,  if  she 
could,  in  intelligent  conversation,  went  with  them 
into  the  garden  to  study  their  ways  when  they 
were  sleighing,  drawn  by  a  big  dog,  and  gener- 
ally made  their  lives  a  burden  to  them.  This 
went  on  for  three  days,  and  then  she  settled  down 
to  write  the  result  with  the  Man  of  TVrath's  type- 
writer, borrowed  whenever  her  notes  for  any 
chapter  have  reached  the  state  of  ripeness  neces- 
sary for  the  process  she  describes  as  "  throwing 
into  form."  She  writes  everything  with  a  type- 
writer, even  her  private  letters. 

"Don't  forget  to  pat  in  something  about  a 
mother's  knee,"  said  Irais  ;  "  you  can't  write  effect- 
ively about  children  without  that." 

"  Oh,  of  course  I  shall  mention  that,"  replied 
Minora. 

"  And  pink  toes,"  I  added.  "  There  are  always 
toes,  and  they  are  never  anything  but  pink." 

"  I  have  that  somewhere,"  said  Minora,  turn- 
ing over  her  notes. 

''But,  after  all  babies  are  not  a  German 
specialty,"  said  Irais,  "  and  I  don't  quite  see  why 
you  should  bring  them  into  a  book  of  German 


>. 


V 


/  - 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

travels.  Elizabeth's  babies  have  each  got  the 
fashionable  number  of  arms  and  legs,  and  are 
exactly  the  same  as  English  ones." 

"  Oh,   but  they  can't  be  just  the   same,  you 
know,"  said  Minora,  looking  worried.     "  It  must 
make  a  difference  living  here  in  this  place,  and 
eating  such  odd  things,  and  never  having  a  doc 
tor,    and   never   being  iU.     Children   who  have 
never  had  measles  and  those  things  can't  be  quite 
the  same  as  other  children ;  it  must  all  be  in  their 
systems   and  can't  get   out  for  some  reason  or 
other.     And  a  child  brought  up  on  chicken  and 
rice-pudding  must  be  different  to  a  child  that  eats 
Sjnchgans  and  liver  sausages.     And  they  are  dif- 
ferent ;  I  can't  tell  in  what  way,  but  they  certainl} 
are  ;  and  I  think  if  I  steadily  describe 
the  materials  I  have  collected  the  last  three  da 
I  may  perhaps  hit  on  the  points  of  difference." 
"Why    bother  about    points   of   difference 
asked  Irais.     "  I  should  write  some  little  thi 
bringing  in  the  usual  parts  of  the  picture 
as  knees  and  toes,  and  make  it  mildly  pathe 

"  But  it  is  by  no  means  an  easy  th 
to  do,"  said  Minora  plaintively  ;  "  I 
experience  of  children." 


\j 

\ 


(Ik 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

"  Then  why  write  it  at  all? "  asked  that  sensi- 
ble person  Elizabeth. 

"I  have  as  little  experience  as  you,"  said 
Irais,  ''  because  I  have  no  children ;  but  if  you 
don't  yearn  after  startling  originality,  nothing  is 
easier  than  to  write  bits  about  them.  I  believe  I 
could  do  a  dozen  in  an  hour." 

She  sat  down  at  the  writing-table,  took  up  an 
old  letter,  and  scribbled  for  about  five  minutes. 
"  There,"  she  said,  throwing  it  to  Minora,  "  you 
may  have  it — pink  toes  and  all  complete." 

Minora  put  on  her  eyeglasses  and  read  aloud  : 
"  When  my  baby  shuts  her  eyes  and  sings  her 
hymns  at  bedtime  my  stale  and  battered  soul  is 
filled  with  awe.  All  sorts  of  vague  memories 
crowd  into  my  mind — memories  of  my  own 
mother  and  myself — how  many  years  ago  ! — of 
the  sweet  helplessness  of  being  gathered  up  half 
asleep  in  her  arms,  and  undressed,  and  put  in  my 
cot,  without  being  wakened,  of  the  angels  I  be- 
lieved in  ;  of  little  children  coming  straight  from 
heaven,  and  still  being  surrounded,  so  long  as  they 
were  good,  by  the  shadow  of  white  wings, — all 
the  dear  poetic  nonsense  learned,  just  as  my  baby 
is  learning  it,  at  her  mother's  knee.     She  has  not 


/ 


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\W  W 


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Jl 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

an  idea  of  the  beauty  of  the  charming  things  she 
is  told,  and  stares  wide-eyed,  vrith  heavenly  eyes, 
while  her  mother  talks  of  the  heaven  she  has  so 
lately  come  from,  and  is  relieved  and  comforted  by 
%  the  interrupting  bread  and  milk.  At  two  years 
old  she  does  not  understand  angels,  and  does  under- 
stand bread  and  milk  ;  at  five  she  has  vague  notions 
about  them,  and  prefers  bread  and  milk ;  at  ten 
both  bread  and  milk  and  angels  have  been  left  be- 
hind in  the  nursery,  and  she  has  already  found  out 
that  they  are  luxuries  not  necessary  to  her  every- 
day life.  In  later  years  she  may  be  disinclined 
to  accept  truths  second  hand,  insist  on  thinking 
for  herself,  be  earnest  in  her  desire  to  shake  off 
exploded  traditions,  be  untiring  in  her  efforts  to 
live  according  to  a  high  moral  standard  and  be 
strong,  and  pure,  and  good " 

"  Like  tea,"  explained  Irais. 

^* — yet  will  she  never,  with  all  her  virtues, 
possess  one-thousandth  part  of  the  charm  that 
clung  about  her  when  she  sang,  with  quiet  eye- 
lids, her  first  reluctant  hymns,  kneeling  on  her 
mother's  knees.  I  love  to  come  in  at  bedtime 
and  sit  in  the  window  in  the  setting  sunshine 
watching  the   mysteries   of   her  going    to    bed. 


f 


-¥^ 


rm 


Her  mother  tubs  her,  for  she  is  far  too  precious 
to  be  touched  by  any  nurse,  and  theu  she  is 
rolled  up  in  a  big  bath  towel,  and  only  her  little 
pink  toes  peep  out ;  and  when  she  is  powdered, 
and  combed,  and  tied  up  in  her  nightdress,  and 
ail  her  curls  are  on  end,  and  her  ears  orlo wins', 
she  is  knelt  down  on  her  mother's  lap,  a  little 
bundle  of  fragrant  flesh,  and  her  face  reflects 
the  quiet  of  her  mothers  face  as  she  goes  through 
her  evening  prayer  for  pity  and  for  peace." 

"  How  very  curious  I  "  said  Minora,  when  she 
had  finished.  "  That  is  exactly  what  I  was  go- 
ing to  say." 

"  Oh,  then  I  have  saved  you  the  trouble  of  put- 
ting it  together  ;  you  can  cop}^  that  if  you  like." 

"  But  have  you  a  stale  soul,  Miss  Minora  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"  Well,  do  you  know,  I  rather  think  that  is  a 
good  touch,"  she  replied ;  ''  it  will  make  people 
really  think  a  man  wrote  the  book.  You  know, 
I  am  going  to  take  a  man's  name." 

"'  That  is  precisely  what  I  imagined,"  said 
Irais.  "  You  will  call  yourself  John  Jones,  or 
George  Potts,  or  some  such  sternly  commonplace 
name,  to  emphasize  your  uncompromising  attitude 


^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden 
toward  all  feminine  weaknesses,  and 
be  taken  in." 

''I  really  think,  Elizabeth,"  said  Irais  to  me 
later,  when  the  click  of  Minora's  typewriter  was 
heard  hesitating  in  the  next  room,  -that  you 
and  I  are  writing  her  book  for  her.  She  takes 
down  everything  we  say.  Why  does  she  copy 
all  that  about  the  baby  ?  I  wonder  why  mothers' 
knees  are  supposed  to  be  touching?  I  never 
learned  anything  at  them,  did  you?  But,  then, 
in  my  case  they  were  only  stepmother's,  and  no- 
body ever  sings  their  praises." 

"My    mother  was  always  at  parties,"  I  said; 
« and  the   nurse  made  me  say  my  prayers  in 

French." 

"  And  as  for  tubs  and  powder,"  went  on  Irais, 
«  when  I  was  a  baby   such  things   were  not  the 
fashion.     There  were  never  any  bath-rooms  and 
no  tubs;    our  faces  and  hands  were  washed,  and 
there   was  a  footbath    in  the  room,  and  in  the 
summer  we  had  a  bath  and  were  put  to  bed  after- 
^vard  for  fear  we  might  catch   cold.    My  step- 
mother   didn't   worry   much ;    she  used  to  wear 
pink  dresses  all  over  lace,  and  the  older  she  got  the 
prettier  the  dresses  got.      When  is  she  going?" 


t^' 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

"  Who  ?    Minora  ?  I  haven't  asked  her  that." 

"  Then  I  will.  It  is  really  bad  for  her  art  to 
be  neglected  like  this.  She  has  been  here  an  un- 
conscionable time — it  must  be  nearly  three  weeks." 

"  Yes,  she  came  the  same  day  you  did,"  I  said 
pleasantly. 

Irais  was  silent.  I  hope  she  was  reflecting 
that  it  is  not  worse  to  neglect  one's  art  than  one's 
husband,  and  her  husband  is  lying  all  this  time 
stretched  on  a  bed  of  sickness,  while  she  is  spend- 
ing her  days  so  agreeably  with  me.  She  has  a 
way  of  forgetting  that  she  has  a  home,  or  any 
other  business  in  the  world  than  just  to  stay  on 
chatting  with  me,  and  reading,  and  singing,  and 
laughing  at  any  one  there  is  to  laugh  at,  and 
kissing  the  babies,  and  tilting  with  the  Man  of 
Wrath.  ^N'aturally  I  love  her — she  is  so  pretty 
that  anybody  with  eyes  in  his  head  must  love 
her — but  too  much  of  anything  is  bad,  and  next 
month  the  passages  and  ofBces  are  to  be  white- 
washed, and  people  who  have  ever  whitewashed 
their  houses  inside  know  what  nice  places  they 
are  to  live  in  while  it  is  being  done  ;  and  there 
will  be  no  dinner  for  Irais,  and  none  of  those  suc- 
culent salads  full  of  caraway  seeds  that  she  so  de- 


-^sT-,      ..^ 


^mi 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden.  Skii^^^^ 

votedly  loves.     I  shall  begin  to  lead  her  thoughts 
gently  back  to  her  duties  by  inquiring  every  day 
anxiously  after  her  husband's  health.     She  is  not 
verv  fond  of  him,  because  he  does  not  run  and 
hold  the  door  open  for  her  every  time  she  gets  up 
to  leave  the   room;   and  though  she  has   asked 
him  to  do  so,  and  told  him  how  much  she  wishes 
he  would,  he  still  won't.     She  stayed  once  in  a 
house  where  there  was  an  Englishman,  and  his 
nimbleness  in  regard  to  doors  and  chairs  so  im- 
pressed her  that  her  husband  has  had  no  peace 
since,  and  each  time  she  has  to  go  out  of  a  room 
she  is  reminded  of  her  disregarded  wishes,  so  that 
a  shut  door  is  to  her  symbolic  of  the  failure  of  her 
married  life,  and  the  very  sight  of  one  makes  her 
wonder  why    she    was    born ;    at  least,  that  is 
what  she  told  me  once,  in  a  burst  of  confidence. 
He  is  quite  a  nice,  harmless  little  man,  pleasant 
to  talk  to,  good-tempered,  and  full  of  fun  ;  but  he 
thinks  he  is  too  old  to  begin  to  learn  new  and  un- 
comfortable ways,    and  he  has    that   horror   of 
being  made  better  by  his  wife  that  distinguishes 
so  many  righteous  men,  and  is  shared  by  the  Man 
of  ^Vrath,  who  persists  in  holding  his  glass  in  his 
left  hand  at  meals,  because  if  he  did  not  (and  I 


•I  '1 


m 


Ui 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

don't  believe  he  particularly  likes  doing  it)  his 
relations  might  say  that  marriage  has  improved 
him,  and  thus  drive  the  iron  into  his  soul.  This 
habit  occasions  an  almost  daily  argument  be- 
tween one  or  other  of  the  babies  and  myself. 

"  April,  hold  your  glass  in  your  right  hand." 

"  But  papa  doesn't." 
-^,..,,^,  "When  vou  are  as  old  as  papa  you  can  do  as 

fc^:^'?^    you  like.' 

This  was  embellished  only  yesterday  by   Mi- 
VfJ   nora  adding  impressively,  "  And  only  think  how 
strange    it   would  look  if  everybody  held    their 
glasses  so." 

April  was  greatly  struck  by  the  force  of  this 
Y^:;^^f^  proposition. 

January  28. — It  is  very  cold — fifteen  degrees 
of  frost  Reaumur  but  perfectly  delicious,  still, 
bright  weather,  and  one  feels  jolly  and  energetic 
and  amiably  disposed  toward  everybody.  The  two 
young  ladies  are  still  here,  but  the  air  is  so  buoy- 
ant that  even  they  don't  weigh  on  me  any  longer, 
and,  besides,  they  have  both  announced  their  ap- 
proaching departure,  so  that  after  all  I  shall  get 
my  whitewashing  done  in  peace,  and  the  house 


n 


7/ 


^_ 


isfi- 


:■:.?>• 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

will  have  on  its  clean  pinafore  in  time  to  welcome 
the  spring. 

Minora  has  painted  my  portrait,  and  is  going 
to  present  it  as  a  parting  gift  to  the  Man  of  Wrath  ; 
and  the  fact  that  I  let  her  do  it,  and  sat  meekly 
times  innumerable,  proves  conclusively,  I  hope,  that 
I  am  not  vain.  "When  Irais  first  saw  it  she  laughed 
till  she  cried,  and  at  once  commissioned  her  to 
paint  hers,  so  that  she  may  take  it  away  with  her  and 
give  it  to  her  husband  on  his  birthday,  which  hap- 
pens to  be  early  in  February.  Indeed  if  it  were  not 
for  this  birthday,  I  reall}^  think  she  would  have  for- 
gotten to  go  at  all ;  but  birthdays  are  great  and 
solemn  festivals  with  us,  never  allowed  to  slip  by 
unnoticed,  and  always  celebrated  in  the  presence 
of  a  sympathetic  crowd  of  relations  (gathered 
from  far  and  near  to  tell  you  how  well  you  are 
wearing,  and  that  nobody  would  ever  dream,  and 
that  really  it  is  wonderful),  who  stand  round  a 
sort  of  sacrificial  altar,  on  which  your  years  are 
offered  up  as  a  burnt-offering  to  the  gods  in  the 
shape  of  lighted  pink  and  white  candles,  stuck  in 
a  very  large,  flat,  jammy  cake.  The  cake  with 
its  candles  is  the  chief  feature,  and  on  the  table 
round  it  lie  the  gifts  each  person  present  is  more 


* 


vX 


^/^:-% 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


/?,"-; 


or  less  bound  to  give.  As  my  birthday  falls  in  the 
winter  I  get  mittens  as  well  as  blotting-books  and 
photograph-frames,  and  if  it  were  in  the  summer 
I  should  get  photograph-frames,  blotting-books, 
and  no  mittens ;  but  whatever  the  present  may  be, 
and  by  whomsoever  given,  it  has  to  be  welcomed 
with  the  noisiest  gratitude,  and  loudest  exclama- 
tions of  joy,  and  such  words  as  entzucliend,  reiz- 
end^  herrlick^  vmndervoll,  and  silss  repeated  ove- 
and  over  again,  until  the  unfortunate  Gehurtstags- 
kind  feels  indeed  that  another  year  has  gone,  and 
that  she  has  grown  older,  and  wiser,  and  more 
tired  of  folly  and  vain  repetitions.  A  flag  is 
hoisted,  and  all  the  morning  the  rites  are  cele- 
brated, the  cake  eaten,  healths  drunk,  speeches 
made,  and  hands  nearh^  shaken  off.  The  neigh- 
boring parsons  drive  up,  and  when  nobody  is  look- 
ins:  their  wives  count  the  candles  in  the  cake  ;  the 
active  lady  in  the  next  Schloss  spares  time  to  send 
a  pot  of  flowers,  and  to  look  up  my  age  in  the 
Gotha  Almanack  ;  2i  die^Vit?ii\on  comes  from  the    |^^ 


v:^^^ 


[//  farms,  headed  by  the  chief  inspector  in  white  kid 
'  -^  gloves,  who  invokes  Heaven's  blessings  on  the 
-^  gracious  lady's  head  ;  and  the  babies  are  enchant- 
ed, and  sit  in  a  corner  trving:  on  all  the  mittens. 


'■^: 


•f'"^^ 


j^y^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

In  the  evening  there  is  a  dinner  for  the  relations 
and  the  chief  local  authorities,  with  more  health- 
drinking  and  speechifying,  and  next  morning, 
when  I  come  down-stairs  thankful  to  have  done 
with  it,  I  am  confronted  by  the  altar  still  in  its 
place,  cake  crumbs  and  candle-grease  and  all,  be- 
cause any  hasty  removal  of  it  would  imply  a  most 
lamentable  want  of  sentiment,  deplorable  in  any- 
body, but  scandalous  and  disgusting  in  a  tender 
X  female.  All  birthdays  are  observed  in  this  fash- 
^\  ion,  and  not  a  few  wise  persons  go  for  a  short 
S>  trip  just  about  the  time  theirs  is  due,  and  I  think 
I  shall  imitate  them  next  year  ;  only  trips  to  the 
country  or  seaside  in  December  are  not  usually 
pleasant,  and  if  I  go  to  a  town  there  are  sure  to 
be  relations  in  it,  and  then  the  cake  will  spring  up 
mushroom-like  from  the  teeming  soil  of  their 
affection. 

I  hope  it  has  been  made  evident  in  these  pages 
how  superior  Irais  and  myself  are  to  the  ordinary 
weaknesses  of  mankind  ;  if  any  further  proof  were 
needed,  it  is  furnished  by  the  fact  that  we  both,  in 
defiance  of  tradition,  scorn  this  celebration  of 
birthday  rites.  Years  ago,  when  first  I  knew  her, 
and  long  before  we  were  either  of  us  married 


-*>,..•.••• '^■• 


m 


:i^ 


4 


-^rV 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

sent  her  a  little  brass  candlestick  on  her  birthday  ; 
and  when  mine  followed  a  few  months  later,  she 
sent  me  a  note-book.  'No  notes  were  written  in 
it,  and  on  her  next  birthday  I  presented  it  to  her ; 
she  thanked  me  profusely  in  the  customary  manner, 
and  when  my  turn  came  I  received  the  brass  candle- 
stick. Since  then  we  alternately  enjoy  the  posses- 
sion of  each  of  these  articles,  and  the  present  ques- 
tion is  comfortably  settled  once  and  for  all,  at  a 
minimum  of  trouble  and  expense.  "We  never 
mention  this  little  arrangement  except  at  the 
proper  time,  when  we  send  a  letter  of  fervid 
thanks. 

This  radiant  weather,  when  mere  living  is  a  joy, 
and  sitting  still  over  the  fire  out  of  the  question, 
has  been  going  on  for  more  than  a  week.  Sleigh- 
ing and  skating  have  been  our  chief  occupation, 
especially  skating,  which  is  more  than  usually 
fascinating  here,  because  the  place  is  intersected 
by  small  canals  communicating  with  a  lake  and 
the  river  belonging  to  the  lake,  and  as  everything 
is  frozen  black  and  hard,  we  can  skate  for  miles 
straight  ahead  without  being  obliged  to  turn 
round  and  come  back  again — at  all  times  an  an- 
noying, and  even  mortifying,  proceeding.     Irais 


•''v!iN^i\'.' 


^•^^^':!f 


\V.i^.' 


'v^i^M 


■fu. 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

skates  beautifully  ;  modesty  is  the  only  obstacle 
to  my  saying  the  same  of  myself,  but  I  may  re- 
mark that  all  Germans  skate  well,  for  the  simple 
reason  that  every  year  of  their  lives,  for  three  or 
four  months,  they  may  do  it  as  much  as  they  like. 
^Minora  was  astonished  and  disconcerted  by  find- 
ing herself  left  behind,  and  arriving  at  the  place 
where  tea  meets  us  half  an  hour  after  we  had  fin- 
ished. In  some  places  the  banks  of  the  canals  are 
so  high  that  only  our  heads  appear  level  with  the 
fields,  and  it  is,  as  Minora  noted  in  her  book,  a 
curious  sight  to  see  three  female  heads  skimming 
along  apparently  by  themselves,  and  enjoying  it 
tremendously.  When  the  banks  are  low  we  ap- 
pear to  be  gliding  deliciously  over  the  roughest 
plowed  fields,  with  or  without  legs  according  to 
circumstances.  Before  we  start  I  fix  on  the  place 
where  tea  and  a  sleigh  are  to  meet  us,  and  we 
drive  home  again ;  because  skating  against  the 
wind  is  as  detestable  as  skating  with  it  is  delight- 
ful, and  an  unkind  Xature  arranges  its  blowing 
without  the  smallest  regard  for  our  convenience. 
Yesterday,  b}^  way  of  a  change,  we  went  for  a 
picnic  to  the  shores  of  the  Baltic,  ice-bound  at  this 
season,  and  utterly  desolate  at  our  nearest  point. 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

8  I  have  a  weakness  for  picnics,  especially  in  winter, 
when  the  mosquitoes  cease  from  troubling  and  the 
ant-hills  are  at  rest ;  and  of  all  my  many  favorite 
picnic  spots  this  one  on  the  Baltic  is  the  loveliest 
and  best.  As  it  is  a  three-hours'  drive,  the  Man 
of  Wrath  is  loud  in  his  lamentations  when  the 
special  sort  of  weather  comes  which  means,  as  ex- 
perience has  taught  him,  this  particular  excursion. 
^  There  must  be  deep  snow,  hard  frost,  no  wind,  and 
a  cloudless  sky  ;  and  when,  on  waking  up,  I  see 
these  conditions  fuliilled,  then  it  would  need  some 
very  potent  reason  to  keep  me  from  having  out  a 
sleigh  and  going  off.  It  is,  I  admit,  a  hard  day 
for  the  horses ;  but  why  have  horses  if  they  are 
not  to  take  you  where  you  want  to  go  to,  and  at 
the  time  you  want  to  go  ?  And  why  should  not 
horses  have  hard  days  as  well  as  everybody  else  ? 
The  Man  of  Wrath  loathes  picnics,  and  has  no  eye 
for  nature  and  frozen  seas,  and  is  simply  bored  by 
a  long  drive  through  a  forest  that  does  not  belong 
to  him ;  a  single  turnip  on  his  own  place  is  more 
admirable  in  his  eyes  than  the  tallest,  pinkest, 
straightest  pine  that  ever  reared  its  snow-crowned 
head  against  the  setting  sunlight.  Xow  observe 
the  superiority  of  woman,  who  sees  that  both  are 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

good,  and  after  having  gazed  at  the  pine  and  been 
made  happy  by  its  beauty,  goes  home  and  placidly 
eats  the  turnip.  He  went  once  and  only  once  to 
this  particular  place,  and  made  us  feel  so  small  by 
his  llase  behavior  that  I  never  invite  him  now. 
It  is  a  beautiful  spot,  endless  forest  stretching  along 
the  shore  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach  ;  and  after 
driving  through  it  for  miles  you  come  suddenly 
at  the  end  of  an  avenue  of  arching  trees,  upon  the 
glistening  oily  sea,  with  the  orange-colored  sails 
of  distant  fishing-smacks  shining  in  the  sunlight. 
Whenever  I  have  been  there  it  has  been  windless 
weather,  and  the  silence  so  profound  that  I  could 
hear  my  pulses  beating.  The  humming  of  insects 
and  the  sudden  scream  of  a  jay  are  the  only  sounds 
in  summer,  and  in  winter  the  stillness  is  the  still- 
ness of  death. 

Every  paradise  has  its  serpent,  however,  and 
this  one  is  so  infested  by  mosquitoes  during  the 
season  when  picnics  seem  most  natural,  that 
those  of  m}'-  visitors  who  have  been  taken  there 
for  a  treat  have  invariably  lost  their  tempers,  and 
made  the  quiet  shores  ring  with  their  wailing 
and  lamentations.  These  despicable  but  irritat- 
ing insects  don't  seem  to  have  anything  to  do  but 


^A: 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

to  sit  in  multitudes  ou  the  sand,  waiting  for  any 
prey  Providence  may  send  them  ;  and  as  soon  as 
the  carriage  appears  they  rise  up  in  a  cloud,  and 
rush  to  meet  us,  almost  dragging  us  out  bodily, 
and  never  leave  us  until  we  drive  away  again. 
The  sudden  view  of  the  sea  from  the  mossy,  pine- 
covered  height  directly  above  it  where  we  picnic  ; 
the  wonderful  stretch  of  lonely  shore  with  the 
forest  to  the  water's  edge ;  the  colored  sails  in 
the  blue  distance ;  the  freshness,  the  brightness, 
the  vastness — all  is  lost  upon  the  picnickers,  and 
made  worse  than  indifferent  to  them,  by  the  per- 
petual necessity  they  are  under  of  fighting  these 
horrid  creatures.  It  is  nice  being  the  only  person 
who  ever  goes  there  or  shows  it  to  anybody,  but 
if  more  people  went,  perhaps  the  mosquitoes 
would  be  less  lean,  and  hungry,  and  pleased  to 
see  us.  It  has,  however,  the  advantage  of  being 
a  suitable  place  to  which  to  take  refractory  vis- 
itors when  they  have  stayed  too  long,  or  left  my 
books  out  in  the  garden  all  night,  or  otherwise 
made  their  presence  a  burden  too  grievous  to  be 
borne ;  then  one  fine  hot  morning,  when  they 
are  all  looking  limp,  I  suddenly  propose  a  picnic 
on  the  Baltic.    I  have  never  known  this  proposal 


fail  to  be  greeted  with  exclamations  of  surprise 

and  delight. 

"  The  Baltic  !  You  never  told  us  you  were 
within  driving  distance?  How  heavenly  to  get  a 
breath  of  sea  air  on  a  day  like  this  !  The  very 
thought  puts  new  life  into  me  !  And  how  delight- 
ful to  see  the  Baltic  !  Oh,  /??^a^e  take  us  !  "  And 
then  I  take  them. 

But  on  a  brilliant  winter's  day  my  conscience 
is  as  clear  as  the  frosty  air  itself,  and  yesterday 
morning  we  started  off  in  the  gayest  of  spirits,  / 
even  Minora  being  disposed  to  laugh  immoder- 
ately  on  the  least  provocation.  Only  our  eyes 
were  allowed  to  peep  out  from  the  fur  and  woolen 
v^^  wrappings  necessary  to  our  heads  if  we  would 
come  back  with  our  ears  and  noses  in  the  same 
places  they  were  in  when  we  started,  and  for  the 
first  two  miles  the  mirth  created  by  each  other's 
strange  appearance  was  uproarious — a  fact  I  men- 
tion merely  to  show  what  an  effect  dry,  bright, 
intense  cold  produces  on  healthy  bodies,  and  how 
much  better  it  is  to  go  out  in  it  and  enjoy  it  than 
to  stay  indoors  and  sulk.  As  we  passed  through 
the  neighboring  village  with  cracking  of  whip  and 
jingling  of  bells,  heads  popped  up  at  the  windows 


^'>^^j 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

to  stare,  and  the  only  living  thing  in  the  silent, 
sunny  street  was  a  melancholy  fowl  with  ruffled 
feathers,  which  looked  at  us  reproachfully  as  we    % 
dashed  with  so  much  energy  over  the  crackling 
snow. 

"  Oh,  foolish  bird ! "  Irais  called  out  as  we 
passed  ;  "  you'll  be  indeed  a  cold  fowl  if  you 
stand  there  motionless,  and  every  one  prefers 
them  hot  in  weather  like  this !  " 

And  then  we  all  laughed  exceedingly,  as 
though  the  most  splendid  joke  had  been  made, 
and  before  we  had  done  we  were  out  of  the  vil- 
lage and  in  the  open  country  beyond,  and  could 
see  my  house  and  garden  far  away  behind,  glit- 
tering in  the  sunshine  ;  and  in  front  of  us  lay  the 
forest,  with  its  vistas  of  pines  stretching  away 
into  infinity,  and  a  drive  through  it  of  fourteen 
miles  before  we  reached  the  sea.  It  was  a  hoar- 
frost day,  and  the  forest  was  an  enchanted  forest 
leading  into  fairyland,  and  though  Irais  and  I 
have  been  there  often  before,  and  always  thought 
it  beautiful,  yet  yesterday  we  stood  under  the 
final  arch  of  frosted  trees,  struck  silent  by  the 
sheer  loveliness  of  the  place.  For  a  long  way 
out  the  sea  was  frozen,  and  then  there  was  a 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

deep  blue  line,  and  a  cluster  of  motionless  orange 
sails  ;  au  our  feet  a  narrow  strip  of  pale  yellow 
sand  ;  right  and  left  the  line  of  sparkling  forest ; 
and  we  ourselves  standing  in  a  world  of  white 
and  diamond  traceries.  The  stillness  of  an  eternal 
Sunday  lay  on  the  place  like  a  benediction. 

Minora  broke  the  silence  by  remarking  that 
Dresden  was  pretty,  but  she  thought  this  beat 
it  almost. 

"  I  don't  quite  see,"  said  Irais  in  a  hushed  voice, 
as  though  she  were  in  a  holy  place,  "  how  the  two 
can  be  compared." 

"  Yes,  Dresden  is  more  convenient,  of  course," 
replied  Minora  ;  after  which  we  turned  away  and 
thought  we  would  keep  her  quiet  by  feeding  her, 
so  we  went  back  to  the  sleigh  and  had  the  horses 
taken  out  and  their  cloths  put  on,  and  they  were 
walked  up  and  down  a  distant  glade  while  we  sat 
in  the  sleigh  and  picnicked.  It  is  a  hard  day  for 
the  horses,— nearly  thirty  miles  there  and  back 
and  no  stable  in  the  middle  ;  but  they  are  so  fat 
and  spoiled  that  it  cannot  do  them  much  harm 
sometimes  to  taste  the  bitterness  of  life.  I  warmed 
soup  in  a  little  apparatus  I  have  for  such  occa- 
sions, which  helped  to  take  the  chilliness  off  the 


LIVE    IN   PARADISE 


^  ALO^ 


■fJfWT 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

^^  sandwiches — this  is  the  only  unpleasant  part  of  a 
J-  ^^Sj^^^S.    '^' inter  picnic,  the  clammy  quality  of  the  provisions 
^^^^^  just  when  you  most  long  for  something  very  hot. 
Minora  let  her  nose  very  carefully  out  of  its  wrap- 
pings, took  a  mouthful,  and  covered  it  up  quickly 
again.     She  was  nervous  lest  it  should  be  frost- 
nipped,  and  truth  compels  me  to  add  that   her 
nose  is  not  a  bad  nose,  and  might  even  be  pretty 
^^^^^^  on  anybody  else  ;  but  she  does  not  know  how  to 
=e5^^*^r^  r^  carry  it,  and  there  is  an  art  in  the  angle  at  which 
one's  nose  is  held,  just  as  in  everything  else,  and 
really  noses  were  intended  for  something  besides 
mere  blowina-. 

It  is  the  most  beautiful  thing  in  the  world  to 
eat  sandwiches  Avith  immense  fur  and  woolen 
gloves  on,  and  I  think  we  ate  almost  as  much  fur 
as  anything,  and  choked  exceedingly  during  the 
process.  Minora  was  angry  at  this,  and  at  last 
pulled  off  her  glove,  but  quickly  put  it  on  again. 
"  How  very  unpleasant,"  she  remarked  after 
swallowing  a  large  piece  of  fur. 

"  It  will  wrap  around  your  pipes,  and  keep  them 
Avarm,"  said  Irais. 

"  Pipes  !  "  echoed  Minora,  greatly  disgusted  by 
\  such  vulgarity. 


^*^-j 


a\ 


^^- 


^/ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden 


-^^^^  —  _-2^^ 


''  I'm  afraid  I  can't  help  you,"  I  said,  as  she  con-  ^S^^® 
tinned  to  choke  and  splutter ;  ''  we  are  all  in  the 
same  case,  and  I  don't  know  how  to  alter  it." 

"  There  are  such  things  as  forks,  I  suppose," 
snapped  Minora. 

"  That's  true,"  said  I,  crushed  by  the  obvious- 
ness of  the  remedy  ;  but  of  what  use  are  forks  if 
they  are  fifteen  miles   off?     So  Minora  had  to 


il 


r:> 


continue  to  eat  her  gloves. 


By  the  time  we  had  finished  the  sun  was  al- 
ready low  behind  the  trees  and  the  clouds  begin- 
ning to  flush  a  faint  pink.     The  old  coachman  | 
was  given  sandwiches  and  soup,  and  while  he  led 


the  horses  up  and  down  with  one  hand  and  held  'V^ 


m 


n 


-or,  to  be 


his  lunch  in  the  otlier,  we  packed  up 

correct,  I  packed,  and  the  others  looked  on  and 

gave  me  valuable  advice. 

This  coachman,  Peter  by  name,  is  seventy  years  \i 
old,  and  was  born  on  the  place,  and  has  driven  its 
occupants  for  fifty  years,  and  I  am  nearly  as  fond 
of  him  as  I  am  of  the  sun-dial.  Indeed,  I  don't 
know  what  I  should  do  without  him,  so  entirely 
does  he  appear  to  understand  and  approve  of  my 
tastes  and  wishes.  Ko  drive  is  too  loner  or  dilfi-  :] 
cult  for  the  horses  if  I  want  to  take  it,  no  place 


m 


m. 


w 


1 


"i  \, 


J  r3 


i 


^M^' 


/>J«*^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

impossible  to  reach  if  I  want  to  go  to  it,  no 
weather  or  roads  too  bad  to  prevent  my  going 
out  if  I  wish  to— to  all  my  suggestions  he  responds 
with  the  readiest  cheerfulness,  and  smooths  away 
all  objections  raised  by  the  Man  of  Wrath,  who 
rewards  his  alacrity  in  doing  my  pleasure  by 
speaking  of  him  as  an  alter  Esel.  In  the  summer, 
on  fine  evenings,  I  love  to  drive  late  and  alone  in 
the  scented  forests,  and  when  I  have  reached  a 
dark  part  stop,  and  sit  quite  still,  listening  to  the 
nightingales  repeating  their  little  tune  over  and 
over  again  after  interludes  of  gurgling,  or,  if  there 
are  no  nightingales,  listening  to  the  marvelous 
silence,  and  letting  its  blessedness  descend  into  my 
soul.  The  nightingales  in  the  forests  about  here  all 
sing  the  same  tune,  and  in  the  same  key — (E  flat) : 


I  don't  know  whether  all  nightingales  do  this,  or 
if  it  is  peculiar  to  this  particular  spot.  When 
they  have  sung  it  once  they  clear  their  throats  a 
little,  and  hesitate,  and  then  do  it  again,  and  it 
is  the  prettiest  little  song  in  the  world.  How 
could  I  indulge  my  passion  for  these  drives  with 
their  pauses  without  Peter  ?     He  is  so  used  to  them 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden, 
that  he  stops  no\y  at  the  right  moment  without 
having  to  be  told,  and  he  is  ready  to  drive  me  all 
nightlf  I  wish  it,  with  no  sisfn   of  anything  but 
ch^eerful  willingness  on  his  nice  old  face.     The 
'Man  of  ^Vrath  deplores  these  eccentric  tastes,  as 
he  calls  them,  of  mine  ;  but  has  given  up  trying 
to  prevent  my  indulging  them  because,  while  he 
is  deploring   in  one  part   of  the  house,  I  have 
g    slipped  out  at  a  door  m  the  other,  and  am  gone 
\    before  he  can  catch  me,  and  have  reached  and 
am  lost  in  the  shadows  of  the  forest  by  the  time 
he   has    discovered   that   I  am  nowhere  to   be 

found. 

The  brightness  of  Peter's  perfections  are  sullied, 
however,  by  one  spot,  and  that  is  that   as   age 
creeps  upon  him,  he  not   only  cannot  hold  the 
horses  in  if  they  don't  want  to  be  held  in,  but 
he  goes  to  sleep  sometimes  on  his  box  if  I  have 
him   out   too    soon  after  lunch,   and   has   upset 
me  twice  within  the  last  year— once  last  winter 
3    out  of  a  sleigh,  and  once  this  summer,  when  the 
horses  shied  at  a  bicycle,  and  bolted  into  the  ditch 
on  one  side  of  the  chaiissee  (German  for  high- 
road),   and  the  bicycle  was  so  terrified  at  the 
horses  shying  that  it  shied  too  into  the  ditch  on 


\\ 


Elizabeth*  and  Her  German  Garden. 

the  other  side,  and  the  carriage  was  smashed  and 
the  bicycle  was  smashed,  and  we  were  all  very 
unhappy,  except  Peter,  who  never  lost  his  pleasant 
smile,  and  looked  so  placid  that  my  tongue  clave 
to  the  roof  of  my  mouth  when  I  tried  to  make  it 
scold  him. 

"  But  I  should  think  he  ought  to  have  been 
thoroughly  scolded  on  an  occasion  like  that," 
said  Minora,  to  whom  I  had  been  telling  this 
story  as  we  wandered  on  the  yellow  sands  while 
the  horses  were  being  put  in  the  sleigh ;  and  she 
glanced  nervously  up  at  Peter,  whose  mild  head 
was  visible  between  the  bushes  above  us.  ''  Shall 
we  get  home  before  dark  ?  "  she  asked. 

The  sun  had  altogether  disappeared  behind  the 
pines  and  only  the  very  highest  of  the  little 
clouds  were  still  pink  ;  out  at  sea  the  mists  were 
creeping  up,  and  the  sails  of  the  fishing-smacks 
had  turned  a  dull  brown ;  a  flight  of  wild  geese 
passed  across  the  disk  of  the  moon  with  loud 
cacklings. 

"  Before  dark  ?  "  echoed  Irais  ;  "  I  should  think 
not.  It  is  dark  now  nearly  in  the  forest,  and  we 
shall  have  the  loveliest  moonlight  drive  back." 

"  But  it  is  surely  very  dangerous  to  let  a  man 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

who  goes  to  sleep  drive  you, "  said  Minora  appre- 
hensively. 

"  But  he's  such  an  old  dear,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,  yes,  no  doubt,"  she  replied  testily  ;  "  but 
there  are  wakeful  old  dears  to  be  had,  and  on  a 
box  they  are  preferable." 

Irais  laughed.     "  You  are  growing  quite  amus- 
ing, Miss  Minora,"  she  said. 
^c^^^t^^^       "  H^  is^'^  ^^  ^  ^^^  to-day,"  said  I ;  "  and  I 
=^5=^**^^  y^  never  knew  him  to  go  to  sleep  standing  up  behind 
us  on  a  sleigh." 

But  Minora  was  not  to  be  appeased,  and  mut- 
tered something  about  seeing  no  fun  in  f oolhardi- 
ness,  which  shows  how  alarmed  she  was,  for  it 
was  rude. 

Peter,  however,  behaved   beautifully   on   the 
way  home,  and  Irais  and  I  at  least  were  as  happy 
as  possible  driving  back,  with  all  the  glories  of 
the  western  sky  flashing  at  us  ever}^  now  and 
^  S^  then  at  the  end  of  a  long  avenue  as  we  swiftly 
Vi'>^'    passed,  and  later  on,  when  they  had  faded,  myr- 
iads of  stars  in  the  narrow  black  strip  of  sky 
over  our  heads.     It  was  bitterly  cold,  and  Minora 
w\is  silent,  and  not  in  the  least  inclined  to  lauo^h 
-Xi  /jLfO\^^  w^ith  us  as  she  had  been  six  hours  before. 


W*^ 


/ 

Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden.. 

"  Have  you  enjoyed  yourself,  Miss  Minora  ? " 
inquired  Irais,  as  we  got  out  of  the  forest  on  to 
the  chaussee,  and  the  lights  of  the  viUage  before 
ours  twinkled  in  the  distance. 

"  How  many  degrees  do  you  suppose  there  are 
now  ? "  was  Minora's  reply  to  this  question. 

"  Degrees  ?— Of  frost  ?  Oh,  dear  me,  are  you 
cold  \  "  cried  Irais  solicitously. 

"  Well,  it  isn't  exactly  warm,  is  it  ?  ''  said 
Minora  sulkily  ;  and  Irais  pinched  me.  "  Well, 
but  think  how  much  colder  you  would  have  been 
without  all  that  fur  you  ate  for  lunch  inside  you," 
she  said. 

"  And  what  a  nice  chapter  you  will  be  able  to 
write  about  the  Baltic,"  said  I.  "Why,  it  is 
practically  certain  that  you  are  the  first  English 
person  who  has  ever  been  to  just  this  part  of  it." 

"Isn't  there  some  English  poem,"  said  Irais, 
"  about  being  the  first  who  ever  burst 

"'Into    that    silent    sea,'"    finished    Minora 


hastily.     "  You  can't  quote  that  without  its  con- 
text, you  know." 

"But  I  wasn't  going  to,"  said  Irais  meekly. 
"  I  only  paused  to  breathe.  I  must  breathe,  or 
perhaps  I  might  die." 


!^../,;>. 


j:v./' 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

The  lights  from  my  energetic  friend's  Schloss 
shone  brightly  down  upon  us  as  we  passed  round 
the  base  of  the  hill  on  which  it  stands ;  she  is 
very  proud  of  this  hill,  as  well  she  may  be,  see- 
ing it  is  the  only  one  in  the  whole  district. 

"  Do  you  never  go  there  ?  "  asked  Minora,  jerk- 
ing her  head  in  the  direction  of  the  house. 

"  Sometimes.  She  is  a  very  busy  woman,  and 
I  should  feel  I  was  in  the  wa}^  if  I  went  often/' 

"  It  would  be  interesting  to  see  another  Xorth 
German  interior,"  said  Minora;  "and  I  should 
be  obliged  if  you  would  take  me." 

"But  I  can't  fall  upon  her  suddenly  with  a 
strange  girl,"  I  protested ;  "  and  we  are  not  at 
all  on  such  intimate  terms  as  to  justify  my  tak- 
ing all  my  visitors  to  see  her." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  see   another   interior 

for?"  asked   Irais.     "I  can  tell  you  what  it  is 

like;  and   if   you  went  nobody  would  speak  to 

you,  and  if  you  were  to  ask  questions,  and  began 

to  take  notes,  the  good  lady  would  stare  at  you 

'o^*x  aV    in  tlie  frankest  amazement,  and  think  Elizabeth 

P    had  brought  a  young  lunatic  out  for  an  airing. 

I    Everybody  is  not  as  patient  as  Elizabeth,"  added 

,  Irais,  anxious  to  pay  off  old  scores. 


Ijliir  mV' 


An 


-••^ 


-  ^t'l 


^. 


I.  i;i-| 


^^- 


im^.- 


iiir 


"  I  would  do  a  great  deal  for  you,  Miss  Minora." 
I  said,  "  but  I  can't  do  that." 

"  If  we  went,"  said  Irais,  "  Elizabeth   and   I 
would  be  placed  with  great  ceremony  on  a  sofa 
behind  a  large,  polished  oval  table  with  a  crochet- 
mat  in  the  center — it  has  got  a  crochet-mat  in  the 
center,  hasn't  it  ?  "     I  nodded.     "  And  you  would 
sit  on  one  side  of  the  four  little  podgy,  buttony, 
tasselly  red  chairs  that  are  ranged  on  the  other 
side  of  the  table  facing  the  sofa.     They  are  red, 
Elizabeth?"     Again   I   nodded.     "The  floor  is 
painted  yellow,  and  there  is  no  carpet  except  a 
rug  in   front  of  the   sofa.     The   paper   is   dark 
chocolate  color,  almost  black  ;  that  is  in  order 
that  after  years  of  use  the  dirt  may  not  show, 
and  the  room  need  not  be  done  up.     Dirt  is  like 
wickedness,   you    see.   Miss    Minora— its    being 
there  never  matters  ;  it  is  only  when  it  shows  so 
much  as  to  be  apparent  to  everybody  that  we  are 
ashamed  of  it.     At  intervals  round  the  high  walls 
are  chairs  and  cabinets  with  lamps  on  them,  and 
in  one  corner  is  a  great  white  cold  stove— or  is  it 
majolica  ? "  she  asked,  turning  to  me. 
"  No,  it  is  white." 
"  There  are  a  great  many  lovely  big  windows. 


M 


sgAi.'. 


all  ready  to  let  in  the  air  and  the  sun,  but  they 
are  as  carefully  covered  with  brown  lace  cur- 
tains under  heavy  stuff  ones  as  though  a  whole 
row  of  houses  were  just  opposite,  with  peering 
eyes  at  every  window  trying  to  look  in,  instead 
of  there  only  being  fields,  and  trees,  and  birds. 
"No  fire,  no  sunlight,  no  books,  no  flowers  ;  but 
a  consoling  smell  of  red  cabbage  coming  up 
under  the  door,  mixed,  in  due  season,  with 
soapsuds." 

"  When  did  you  go  there  ? "  asked  Minora. 

"  Ah,  when  did  I  go  there  indeed  ?  When  did 
I  not  go  there  ?  1  have  been  calling  there  all 
ray  life." 

Minora's  eyes  rolled  doubtfully  first  at  me, 
then  at  Irais,  from  the  depths  of  her  head-wrap- 
pings ;  they  are  large  eyes  with  long  dark  eye- 
lashes, and  far  be  it  from  me  to  deny  that  each 
eye  taken  by  itself  is  fine,  but  they  are  put  in  all 
wrong. 

"  The  only  thing  you  would  learn  there,"  went 
on  Irais,  ''  would  be  the  significance  of  sofa 
corners  in  Germany.  If  we  three  went  there  to- 
gether, I  should  be  ushered  into  the  right-hand 
corner   of  the  sofa,   because   it  is  the  place  of 


0 


A 


m^ 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

honor,  and  I  am  the  greatest  stranger  ;  Elizabeth 
would  be  invited  to  seat  herself  in  the  left-hand 
corner,  as  next  in  importance ;  the  hostess  would 
sit  near  us  in  an  armchair ;  and  you,  as  a  person 
of  no  importance  whatever,  would  be  left  to  sit 
where  you  could,  or  would  be  put  on  a  chair  facing 
us,  and  with  the  entire  breadth  of  the  table  be- 
tween us  to  mark  the  immense  social  gulf  that 
separates  the  married  woman  from  the  mere 
virgin.  These  sofa  corners  make  the  drawing  of 
nice  distinctions  possible  in  a  way  that  nothing 
else  could.  The  world  might  come  to  an  end,  and 
create  less  sensation  in  doing  it  than  you  would, 
Miss  Minora,  if  by  any  chance  you  got  into  the 
right-hand  corner  of  one.  That  you  are  put  on  a 
chair  on  the  other  side  of  the  table  places  you  at 
once  in  the  scale  of  precedence,  and  exactly  defines 
your  social  position,  or  rather  your  complete  want 
of  a  social  position."  And  Irais  tilted  her  nose 
ever  so  little  heavenward.  "  Xote  it,"  she  added, 
"  as  the  heading  of  your  next  chapter." 

"  Xote  what  ? "  asked  Minora  impatiently. 

''  Why,  '  The  Subtle  Significance  of  Sofas,'  of 
course,"  replied  Irais.  ''If,"  she  continued,  as 
Minora  made  no  reply  appreciative  of  this  sug- 


ll 


AVI 


'i 


m 


m 


\% 


^v" 


Elizabeth  and 

gestion,  "  you  were  to  call  unexpectedly,  the  bad 
luck  which  pursues  the  innocent  would  most 
likely  make  you  hit  on  a  washing  day,  and  the 
distracted  mistress  of  the  house  would  keep  you 
waiting  in  the  cold  room  so  long  while  she 
changed  her  dress,  that  you  would  begin  to  fear 
you  were  to  be  left  to  perish  from  want  and 
hunger;  and  when  she  did  appear,  would  show 
by  the  bitterness  of  her  welcoming  smile  the 
rage  that  was  boiling  in  her  heart.'* 

"  But  what  has  the  mistress  of  the  house  to  do 
with  washing  ?  " 

"  What  has  she  to  do  with  washing  ?  Oh,  you 
sweet  innocent — pardon  my  familiarity,  but  such 
ignorance  of  country-life  customs  is  very  touching 
in  one  who  is  writing  a  book  about  them." 

"  Oh,  I  have  no  doubt  I  am  very  ignorant," 
said  Minora  loftily. 

"  Seasons  of  washing,"  explained  Irais,  "  are 
seasons  set  apart  by  the  Hausfrau  to  be  kept 
holy.  They  only  occur  every  two  or  three  months, 
and  while  they  are  going  on  the  whole  house  is 
in  an  uproar,  every  other  consideration  sacrificed, 
husband  and  children  sunk  into  insignificance, 
and  no  one  approaching,  or  interfering  with,  the 


\  >v. 


"V, 


\ 


V. 


:3^ 


\ 


I  - 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 
mistress  of  the  house  during  these  days  of  puri- 
fication, but  at  their  peril." 

"You  don't  really  mean,"  said  Minora, '^  that 
you  only  wash  your  clothes  four  times  a  year  ? " 
"  Yes,  I  do  mean  it,"  replied  Irais. 
''  Well,  I  think  that  is  very  disgusting,"  said 
Minora  emphatically. 

Irais  raised  those  pretty,  delicate  eyebrows  of 
hers.  "  Then  you  must  take  care  and  not  marry 
a  German,"  she  said. 

'' But  what  is  the  object  of  it?"  went  on  Mi- 
nora. 

''  Why,  to  clean  the  linen,  I  suppose." 
"  Yes,  yes,  but  why  only  at  such  long  inter- 
vals ?  " 

''  It  is  an  outward  and  visible  sign  of  vast  pos- 
sessions in  the  shape  of  linen.  If  you  were  to 
.  want  to  have  your  clothes  washed  every  week,  as 
:  you  do  in  England,  you  would  be  put  down  as  a 
•  person  who  only  has  just  enough  to  last  that 
;  length  of  time,  and  would  be  an  object  of 
general  contempt." 

*'But  I  should  be 
nor  a,  '•  and  my  hou 
cumulated  dirt." 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden, 
there  was  nothins"  to 


"We  said  nothing- 
said. 

"  It  must  be  a  happy  land 


be 


that  England  of 


yours, 


Irais remarked  after  a  while  with  a  sio^h 


nm 


%.M 


— a  beatific  vision  no  doubt  presenting  itself  to 
her  mind  of  a  land  full  of  washerwomen,  and 
agile  gentlemen  darting  at  door-handles. 

^*  It  is  a  clean  land,  at  any  rate,"  replied  Mi- 
nora. 

"  /don't  want  to  go  and  live  in  it,"  I  said — for 
we  were  driving  up  to  the  house,  and  a  memory 
of  fogs  and  umbrellas  came  into  my  mind  as  I 
looked  up  fondly  at  its  dear  old  west  front,  and  I 
felt  that  what  I  want  is  to  live  and  die  just  here, 
and  that  there  never  was  such  a  happy  woman  as 
Elizabeth. 

April  18. — I  have  been  so  busy  ever  since 
Irais  and  Minora  left  that  I  can  hardly  believe 
the  spring  is  here,  and  the  garden  hurrying  on 
its  green  and  flowered  petticoat — only  its  petti- 
coat as  yet,  for  though  the  underwood  is  a  fairy- 
land of  tender  little  leaves,  the  trees  above  are 
still  quite  bare. 

February  was  gone  before  I  well  knew  that  it 
had  come,  so  deeply  was  I  enga;ged  in  making 


■\i 


m, 


mm 

Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


hotbeds,  and  having  them  sown  with  petunias, 
verbenas,  and  nicotina  affinis  ;  while  no  less  than 
thirty  are  dedicated  solely  to  vegetables,  it  having 
been  borne  in  upon  me  lately  that  vegetables 
must  be  interesting  things  to  grow,  besides  possess- 
ing solid  virtues  not  given  to  flowers,  and  that  I 
might  as  well  take  the  orchard  and  kitchen 
garden  under  my  wing.  So  I  have  rushed  in  with 
all  the  zeal  of  utter  inexperience,  and  my  Feb- 
ruary evenings  were  spent  poring  over  gardening 
books,  and  my  days  in  applying  the  freshly  ab- 
sorbed wisdom.  Who  says  that  February  is  a 
dull,  sad,  slow  month  in  the  country  ?  It  was  of 
the  cheerfulest,  swiftest  description  here,  and  its 
mild  days  enabled  me  to  get  on  beautifully  with 
the  digging  and  manuring,  and  filled  my  rooms 
with  snow-drops.  The  longer  I  live  the  greater 
is  my  respect  and  affection  for  manure  in  all  its 
forms,  and  already,  though  the  year  is  so  young, 
a  considerable  portion  of  its  pin-money  has  been 
spent  on  artificial  manure.  The  Man  of  Wrath 
says  he  never  met  a  young  woman  who  spent  her 
money  that  way  before ;  I  remarked  that  it  must 
be  nice  to  have  an  original  wife ;  and  he  retorted 
that  the  word  original  hardly  described  me,  and 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

that  the  word  eccentric  was  the  one  required. 
Very  well,  I  suppose  I  am  eccentric,  since  even 
my  husband  says  so  ;  but  if  my  eccentricities  are 
of  such  a  practical  nature  as  to  result  later  in  the 
biggest  cauliflowers  and  tenderest  lettuce  in 
Prussia,  why  then  he  ought  to  be  the  first  to  rise 
up  and  call  me  blessed. 

I  sent  to  England  for  vegetable-marrow  seeds, 
as  they  are  not  grown  here,  and  people  try  and 
make  boiled  cucumbers  take  their  place ;  but 
boiled  cucumbers  are  nasty  things,  and  I  don't 
see  why  marrows  should  not  do  here  perfectly 
well.  These,  and  primrose  roots,  are  the  English 
contributions  to  my  garden.  I  brought  over  the 
roots  in  a  tin  box  last  time  I  came  from  End  and. 
and  am  anxious  to  see  whether  they  will  consent 
to  live  here.  Certain  it  is  that  they  don't  exist  in 
the  Fatherland,  so  I  can  only  conclude  the  winter 
kills  them,  for  surely,  if  such  lovely  things  would 
grow,  they  never  would  have  been  overlooked. 
Irais  is  deeply  interested  in  the  experiment ;  she 
reads  so  many  English  books,  and  has  heard  so 
much  about  primroses,  and  they  have  got  so  mixed 
up  in  her  mind  with  leagues,  and  dames,  and  Dis- 
raelis, that  she  longs  to  see  this  mysterious  polit- 


£•-:.- 


Sife 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 


-X     ^ 


ical  flower,  and  has  made  me  promise  to  telegraph 
when  it  appears,  and  she  will  come  over.  But 
they  are  not  going  to  do  anything  this  year,  and 
I  only  hope  those  cold  days  did  not  send  them  off 
to  the  Paradise  of  flowers.  I  am  afraid  their  first 
impression  of  Germany  was  a  chilly  one. 

Irais  writes  about  once  a  week,  and  inquires  after 
the  garden  and  the  babies,  and  announces  her  in- 
tention of  coming  back  as  soon  as  the  numerous 
relations  staying  with  her  have  left, — "w^hich 
they  won't  do,"  she  wrote  the  other  day,  '•  until 
the  first  frost  nips  them  off,  when  they  will  dis- 
appear like  belated  dahlias — double  ones,  of 
course,  for  single  dahlias  are  too  charming  to  be 
compared  to  relations.  I  have  every  sort  of  ..^.^.^^^^ 
cousin  and  uncle  and  aunt  here,  and  here  they  v^^^J^J^ 
have  been  ever  since  my  husband's  birthday — 
not  the  same  ones  exactly,  but  I  get  so  con- 
fused that  I  never  know  where  one  ends  and 
the  other  begins.  My  husband  goes  off  after 
breakfast  to  look  at  his  crops,  he  says,  and 
I  am  left  at  their  mercy.  I  wish  I  had  crops  to 
go  and  look  at — I  should  be  grateful  even  for 
one,  and  would  look  at  it  from  morning  till  night, 
and  quite  stare  it   out    of    countenance,    sooner 


\ 


f 


^■/// 


^^^  y  -1 


\ 


•^ 


fcA 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

than   stay    at    home    and    have  the   truth    told 
me  by  enigmatic  aunts.     Do  you  know  my  Aunt 


Bertha  ?  She,  in  particular,  spends  her  time  pro- 
pounding obscure  questions  for  my  solution.  I 
get  so  tired  and  worried  trying  to  guess  the  an- 
swers, which  are  always  truths  supposed  to  be 
good  for  me  to  hear.  '  ^hy  do  you  wear  your 
hair  on  your  forehead  ? '  she  asks, — and  that  sets 
me  off  wondering  why  I  do  wear  it  on  my  fore- 
head, and  what  she  wants  to  know  for,  or  whether 
she  does  know  and  only  wants  to  know  if  I  will 
answer  truthfully.  '  I  am  sure  I  don't  know, 
aunt,'  I  say  meekly .  after  puzzling  over  it  for  ever  k 
so  long ;  ^  perhaps  my  maid  knows.  Shall  I  ring  and 
ask  her  ? '  And  then  she  informs  me  that  I  wear 
it  so  to  hide  an  ugly  line  she  says  I  have  down  the 
middle  of  my  forehead,  and  that  betokens  a  list- 
less and  discontented  disposition.  Well,  if  she 
knew,  what  did  she  ask  me  for  ?  Whenever  I  am 
with  them  they  ask  me  riddles  like  that,  and  1 
simply  lead  a  dorfs  life.  Oh,  my  dear,  relations 
are  like  drugs, — useful,  sometimes,  and  even  pleas- 
ant, if  taken  in  small  quantities  and  seldom,  but 
dreadfully  pernicious  on  the  whole,  and  the  truly 
wise  avoid  them." 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 
From  Minora  I  have  had  only  one  communica- 
tion since   her  departure,  in  which  she  thanked 
me  for  her  pleasant  visit,  and  said  she  ^Yas  send- 
ing me  a  bottle  of  English  embrocation  to  rub  on 
my  bruises  after  skating;  that  it  was  wonderful 
stuff,  and  she  was  sure  I  would  like  it ;  and  that 
it  cost  two  marks,  and  would  I  send  stamps.     I 
pondered  long  over  this.     Was  it  a  parting  hit 
intended  as  revenge  for  our  having  laughed  at 
her?     Was  she  personally  interested  in  the  sale 
of  embrocation  ?     Or  was  it  merely  Minora's  idea 
of   a   graceful  return  for  my   hospitality?     As 
for  bruises,  nobody  who  skates  decently  regards 
it  as  a  bruise-producing  exercise,  and  whenever 
there  were  any  they  were  all  on   Minora ;    but 
she  did  happen  to  turn   round    once,  I   remem- 
ber, just  as  I  was  in  the  act  of  tumbling  down 
for 'the  first  and  only  time,  and  her  delight  was 
but  thinly  veiled  by  her  excessive  solicitude  and 
sympathy.     I    sent    her    the    stamps,    received 
the  bottle,  and  resolved  to  let  her  drop   out  of 
my  life  ;    I  had  been  a  good  Samaritan   to  her 
at  the    request  of   my  friend,  but    the    best   of 
Samaritans  resents  the  offer  of   healing  oil   for 
his  own  use. 


'^.r 


^ 


But  why  waste  a  thought  on  Minora  at 
Easter,  the  real  beginning  of  the  year  in  defiance 
of  calendars  ?  She  belongs  to  the  winter  that  is 
past,  to  the  darkness  that  is  over,  and  has  no 
part  or  lot  in  the  life  I  shall  lead  for  the  next 
six  months.  Oh,  I  could  dance  and  sing  for 
joy  that  the  spring  is  here  !  What  a  resurrection 
of  beauty  there  is  in  my  garden,  and  of  bright- 
est hope  in  my  heart !  The  whole  of  this  radi- 
ant Easter  day  I  have  spent  out  of  doors,  sit- 
ting at  first  among  the  windflowers  and  celan- 
dines, and  then,  later,  walking  with  the  babies 
to  the  Hirschwald,  to  see  what  the  spring 
had  been  doing  there;  and  the  afternoon  was 
so  hot  that  we  lay  a  long  time  on  the  turf, 
blinking  up  through  the  leafless  branches  of  the 
silver  birches,  at  the  soft,  fat  little  white  clouds 
floating  motionless  in  the  blue.  We  had  tea  on 
the  grass  in  the  sun,  and  when  it  began  to  grow 
late  and  the  babies  were  in  bed,  and  all  the 
little  windflowers  folded  up  for  the  night,  I  still 
wandered  in  the  green  paths,  my  heart  full  of 
happiest  gratitude.  It  makes  one  very  humble 
to  see  one's  self  surrounded  by  such  a  wealth  of 
beauty  and  perfection  anonymously  lavished  and 


v«/«  '■  ^ 


!lV 


^fAl' 


?; 


Elizabeth  and  Her  German  Garden. 

J  to   think   of  the   iulinite    meanness  of  our  own 
f  grudging  charities,  and  how  displeased  we  are  if 
they  are  not  promptly  and  properly  appreciated. 
1  do  sincerely  trust  that  the  benediction  that  is 
always  awaiting  me  in  my  garden   may  by  de- 
l  grees  be  more  deserved,  and  that  I  may  grow  in 
'  grace,  and  patience,  and  cheerfulness,  just  like  the 
>py  flowers  I  so  much  love. 


I* 


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